It's a Sign of the Times
by My Beautiful Ending
Summary: A chance meeting with Dr. Sengupta allows Bonnie McAllister into Alcatraz. She meets some of the inmates and strikes up an unlikely friendship forged over books and honesty. But as strange things begin to happen at Alcatraz, Bonnie has to hold onto those friendship ties -and her heartstrings -with all her might. Cameos by lots of different Alcatraz inmates.
1. I Can Never Go Home Anymore

**AN: MY ALCATRAZ FANFIC IS FINALLY DONE! YES! There is a sad lack of fanfic in this fandom, so I'm adding to it. FIRST THING YOU NEED TO KNOW: I did some research into Alcatraz, and I have stretched some things in order to make some things work. But come on, it's fiction. Suspend your imagination just a bit. It's not a HUGE leap. SECOND: I don't really follow the time order of the episodes. Things happen when I want them to happen. But just go with it; it shouldn't matter that much at all. Okay, that's it. Go! Read!  
**

__**It's a Sign of the Times**

Chapter 1: I Can Never Go Home Anymore_  
_

_"Listen. Does this sound familiar?  
You wake up every morning, go to school every day,  
spend your nights on the corner just passing the time away.  
Your life is so lonely like a child without a toy.  
Then a miracle-a boy."  
_The Shangri-Las ~I Can Never Go Home Anymore_  
_

It was raining cats and dogs and all other types of household pets as Doctor Lucille Sengupta waited under her umbrella for the SFPD boat that would ferry her back to Alcatraz. While she waited, children of varying ages slowly sloshed up to the dock, decked out in raincoats, hats, and galoshes to brave the elements. She had taken the morning off to do some errands in San Francisco, and decided to join the children on the boat that would ferry them back to the island after school.

The boat pulled up to the dock, and she and the children trailed up the gangplank and under the small shelter of the boat's overhand.

"All aboard?" an officer asked.

"Bonnie's still not here yet," one of the rubber-bedecked children pointed out.

"She'd better get here soon," he muttered.

"There she is!" a small finger pointed toward the figure running through the sheets of rain without any kind of umbrella or raincoat. "She's all wet," the small girl observed matter-of-factly.

"That she is," Lucy said. She knew the little girl by sight, but her name escaped her. That was the way she felt about many of the families that lived on Alcatraz –she would see them in passing and could recognize faces, but she didn't know many names and couldn't converse about much except the weather and other mundane things with the wives of the guards. It was a little lonely sometimes, she reflected.

But now there was Emerson. She smiled a little at that thought.

The girl that ran onto the boat was absolutely drenched, holding her books and shoes in her hand. "Sorry!" she said. "I'm here, I'm here!" Once under cover, she put her books and shoes down and wrung out her hair and attempted to do the same for her skirt, but it didn't really work.

"Forget your umbrella?" Lucy asked politely.

"I didn't know it was going to be this bad," the girl said, casting a frustrated glance at the gray skies still pouring as the boat pulled away from the dock.

"Well, you can always change," Lucy said, attempting to be positive.

"Yes, except I left my house key inside my locked house this morning," she said. "I figured I'd stay outside and do homework until my dad came home…but that's obviously not an option now."

"I'm sorry," Lucy said sympathetically.

"It's just not my day," the girl said, frowning at her bare feet.

"Can your dad let you in?"

She glanced over at Lucy, and there was some definite hesitation in her tone as she said, "I… don't really want to bother him with that when he's working. It was such a dumb thing… I'll… figure something out." She set her shoulders.

Lucy nodded in understanding. She was self reliant, and probably a little bit proud. "I'm Doctor Lucille Sengupta," she said, smiling.

"Bonnie McAllister," the girl said. "Pleased to meet you. Are you a medical doctor?"

"No, I'm a doctor of psychiatry," Lucy said. "Why?"

"I've thought about being a nurse or doctor sometimes." Her tone held a little hint of wistfulness.

"It was a lot of work, but I love what I do," Lucy told her honestly.

* * *

Bonnie clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering, but the goose bumps on her legs and arms were giving way to shivers. The winter had been mild, and the beginning of February had actually felt like spring –until it rained. It had been a horrible day –she had forgotten her keys and half of her books in her locked home, was now soaked after having skipped her last period and visited her mother in the hospital, and her father did not come off duty until seven o'clock. And to top it all off, she had heard some of the girls at school whispering about her –that she lived with, quote unquote, _criminals. _

She really wanted to tell them, _Oh please, like being a felon is a disease you might be able to catch by close association with me. _She hadn't even ever been in the prison proper –only where visitors waited once or twice to wait for her father. She was so tired of this. She thought this year would be different –a new city, a new school… but kids are the same everywhere, she found.

She wished they weren't.

"Can you go wait at someone else's house?" The Doctor was talking to her again.

Bonnie looked up. "I…" _oh, here it comes, _she thought to herself, bracing inwardly. "I feel like… the parents, and some of the kids too… they kind of feel pity for me because my mother's in the hospital, and I don't want to impose on them because it feels like charity. And I don't want any more reason for their pity," she said firmly. Because honestly, if one more well meaning mother came up to her and told her how she was terribly sorry and that they could depend on her for help, or for meals, or anything they needed, she would scream. Mother wasn't _dying,_ for heaven's sake; she just had to recover slowly and quietly. Bonnie was perfectly capable.

People forgot house keys all the time.

"Well, I can understand that," the Indian woman said quietly. Her look conveyed that she understood, and Bonnie wondered if she was analyzing her silently. Her eyes were not overly pitying and condescending, though. She continued, "You need to get warm. Why don't you come with me to the infirmary and I'll find you some clothes to wear as your clothes dry on the radiator. Would that be alright?"

Bonnie blinked at her, surprised. It was a great solution, except…"You mean –in the prison?"

"Yes," she said, nodding. "Is that a problem?"

"No," Bonnie said. "I've just never really been in it before. But that would be wonderful. Thank you, Dr. Sengupta."

"Please, call me Lucy," she said. "I suppose you're wondering about the prisoners."

"A little," Bonnie admitted. "But I don't mind all that much that I share an island with them, like some people do."

"The ones I work with are not what you'd expect," Lucy said. "In a lot of cases, my patients have had exceeding trauma earlier in life that contribute to their criminal tendencies. I work on eliminating that trauma so that the criminal tendencies will lessen or fade away completely."

"Does it work?" Bonnie asked, interested.

"It has helped," Lucy admitted. "The jury is still out on long-term benefits at the moment."

"That's…really neat," Bonnie said, rubbing her arms. "My dad doesn't think much of the prisoners. Not that we've ever really talked much about it," she added thoughtfully.

"Most guards are like that. That's how they do their jobs. They are right, in a way," Lucy said. "They are criminals –some have done simply terrible things. But they don't have to stay criminals."

"That's a really good point," Bonnie said quietly as the boat pulled up to Alcatraz Island.

* * *

_Present Day_

"Wow, you must have been really tired to fall asleep on the tour," someone said as her eyes fluttered open. She flinched and started at the boy in front of her. He scratched his face that was already starting to scar from acne. "The tour's in the next room now. Just so you know." He retreated under the force of her incredulous stare.

Bonnie stared at the infirmary walls that were cracked and peeling with age. The bed she was laying on smelled old –and the boy's clothes –no one dressed like that.

As she got up and walked to the doorway, a horrible feeling of dread welled up in her chest.

"Forty-nine years ago, when this prison closed, the infirmary was where patients would be sewn up after getting into fights by the prison doctor…"

Bonnie hoped against hope, as the colors and flashes and the screaming _difference _beset her, that she was dreaming and that she'd wake up soon. But somehow she knew that this was horribly, horribly real.


	2. Little Things

Chapter 2: Little Things

_"Little things that you do make me glad I'm in love with you  
Little things that you say make me glad that I feel this way  
The way you smile, the way you hold my hand  
And when I'm down you always understand"  
_Little Things~ Bobby Goldsboro

"This way," Lucy said, leading the way, and Bonnie followed, awkwardly dripping onto the cement floor. The cold came through the cement into the bare soles of her feet, and she shivered. "The infirmary's just ahead."

The halls that Lucy was taking her down were devoid of any prisoners, though a few guards did nod to Lucy as they gave Bonnie questioning looks. Bonnie did not return them.

"Here we are," Lucy said, opening a door labeled "INFIRMARY." Bonnie slipped through the door.

"Afternoon, Doc."

"Good afternoon, Tommy," Lucy said politely to the man handcuffed to a bed.

"Who's your friend?" he asked. Bonnie stared at him. He had a crew cut and a square jaw, and blue eyes stared back at her. The black numbers on his shirt said 2002. He looked very young.

"I'm Bonnie," she offered, deciding on the spot that she wasn't going to be afraid. The prisoners were just men. What could they do to her? Why would they care?

"Here's a blanket," Lucy said, pulling one off an empty bed. "I'll find you some clothes to wear; you can go in my office and dry off."

"Thank you," Bonnie said, setting down her books and shoes before taking the blanket. She opened the door Lucy gestured towards and made sure it closed well behind her. Quickly squeezing out her shoulder length hair into the blanket, Bonnie then managed to peel her wet dress off. Her underwear wasn't too bad –she'd keep that on; there wasn't any way she would let it dry on a radiator where anyone could see it! Rubbing the goose bumps on her skin into oblivion, she began to feel much warmer.

Lucy knocked quietly on the door a minute later and Bonnie opened the door with the blanket securely wrapped around her. "Here are a shirt and some pants," Lucy said. "If you'll give me your dress, I'll get it started drying," Lucy said, and Bonnie handed it off to her.  
"Thanks awfully," Bonnie said gratefully.

"You're welcome," Lucy said with a smile as she closed the door.

Quickly shimmying into the pants, she noted that they did fit okay, but they must have been for a tall, skinny beanpole because she had to cuff the legs a few times. She tucked the shirt in and buttoned it up, and cuffed the sleeves up to the elbows, just because she felt like it. Still rubbing her wet hair with the blanket, she left the office. It was too small, and there weren't enough windows.

"Is it okay if I just do some schoolwork in here for a while?" Bonnie asked Lucy.

"Would you like to use my office?"

Bonnie quickly shook her head. "No, thanks. I'm fine here."

"As long as you're sure," Lucy said.

"I'm sure."

Lucy gave her an appraising look before entering her office and sitting down at her desk. Bonnie noticed she kept the door open. _Who wouldn't, in that tiny space? _She wondered.

She took up residence in a chair against the wall. Picking up her schoolbooks, she opened up _Ivanhoe_ to try to get ahead in her English homework.

"So what're you doing in here, kid?"

Bonnie looked up, a little needled at being called 'kid'. "My name's Bonnie," she politely reminded the man whom she had seen upon entering. Taking a closer look, she could see he looked pretty pale, and was holding one arm a little awkwardly; the way her mother did sometimes after the doctors drew blood. "I forgot my house key, and it was raining," she said, "So Dr. Sengupta said I could come in here and dry off."

"You a guard's kid?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. Unsure where his line of questioning was going, she asked, "What's your name?"

"Tommy Madsen," he said. "Pleased to meet you, Bonnie." He smiled, and it really transformed his face. Bonnie got the feeling he could be a charmer if he wanted to.

She smiled back in spite of herself. "Likewise."

"What're you reading?" he asked, gaze dropping to her book.

_"Ivanhoe,_ for my English class."

"Any good?" he asked. She thought she detected a hopeful note in his voice.

"Kind of dry in places, but the story's alright, I guess," Bonnie said, turning it over in her hands. "I'm not that far into it." She looked up at him. "Do you have any books that you can read?"

"There's the prison library. Lots of different books, but nothing really new," Tommy said. "They get read over and over again anyway, for the he –heck of it, but new stuff would be nice." He scowled off into the distance. "Not that you can read in here anyway."

Bonnie hid a smile at his almost swear. "Do you want me to read out loud? Not much has happened yet."

"Do you mind?" he asked, as his eyes lit up.

"Not a bit," she assured him. He wasn't at all what she had expected –he was actually nice. _Some people are so stupid,_ she thought, remembering those unkind girls at school. "Gosh, it'll be nice to keep my mind on the book. It wanders sometimes, just because the writing's so archaic."

"I'll keep you on track."

"Okay," Bonnie said, finding the chapter where she had left off. "Chapter seven. '_The condition of the English nation was at this time sufficiently miserable. King Richard was absent a prisoner, and in the power of the perfidious and cruel Duke of Austria. Even the very place of his captivity was uncertain, and his fate but very imperfectly known to the generality of his subjects, who were, in the meantime, a prey to every species of subaltern oppression…' "_

* * *

When the sound of feet in the hallway shook Bonnie out of her reading rhythm, she was surprised that a chapter and a half and a great deal of time had gone by. She was about to keep reading when the door to the infirmary jerked open and two guards dragged a man in unceremoniously. He had a bloody nose, and a long cut dripped blood down his face.

Lucy came out of her office to see what the commotion was. "Mister Cobb!" she exclaimed in surprised and disappointed tones. "Have you been getting into fights now?"

The man just looked at her as he set his glasses straighter on his nose, which still bled.

"I bet you got in the way of a fight," Tommy said suddenly, smiling. "Somebody takes a swing at another guy, you get in the way, he gets time in the hole and you get a nice quiet infirmary. Am I right?"

All he got in return was a look from the man.

Lucy looked from Tommy to the man who was being handcuffed to an open bed. "You really want quiet, don't you?" she asked quietly. Turning to the guards, she said, "Will one of you get Doctor Beauregard? I think he and Warden James were having a meeting."

"Yes, Ma'am," one man said, leaving. The other remained against the wall.

"I think I can take it from here, Mr. Hastings," Lucy said.

"I think I should stay until the doctor comes, ma'am," the guard replied, not moving.

"If you think it best," Lucy said, and Bonnie got the feeling she was a little miffed. She went to a cabinet and fished out some gauze and a bottle of something, probably alcohol or disinfectant, Bonnie thought.

"Do you need any help?" Bonnie asked.

"No, but thank you, Bonnie," Lucy said, handing some gauze to the man. "Do you feel like your nose is broken, Mr. Cobb?"

"No," he said.

"Sit up straight and lean forward, then," Lucy said briskly, "and use your free hand to pinch your nose shut."

He straightened and pinched obediently. Lucy was dabbing at the cut on his forehead when an older man in a white lab coat walked into the room. He surveyed the room, taking in the situation, as well as Bonnie and Tommy looking interestedly on.

"Thank you, Mr. Hastings," he said. "I'll take it from here."

"Yes, sir," the guard said, and exited the room.

"Well, Cobb," he said, "You're back again, hmm?"

The man just looked at him.

"I guess the talks you've been having with the good Lady Doctor haven't been as successful as she'd hoped," he said, casting a glance at Lucy, who was facing away from him. However, Bonnie could see her, and her lips had thinned. _He doesn't like the fact that she's usurping him,_ Bonnie thought.

Tommy had lost all interest in the goings-on when the Doctor had entered the room. Bonnie realized he was looking at her expectantly, and she found her place again, speaking quietly.

_"We shall meet again, I trust," said the Templar, casting a resentful glance at his antagonist; "and where there are none to separate us."  
_

_"If we do not," said the Disinherited Knight, "the fault shall not be mine. On foot or horseback, with spear, with axe, or with sword, I am alike ready to encounter thee…." _

As she read, Bonnie glanced up periodically to stay aware of what was going on. Once when she did it, she knew that the man –Cobb –was making painful sounds in the back of his throat as the Doctor put stitches into his cut. His lips were pressed together tightly, and they were nearly white.

_They didn't give him anything to dull the pain,_ she thought, and a coil of nausea in her stomach made her swallow. As if it had been as audible as a gasp, his eyes shifted from looking off into nothing to looking at her.

Instinctively, she felt her face blotching up in what was her unique blush. She ducked her head and resumed reading.

* * *

_Present day_

She had followed the tour group, not knowing what else to do, listening to what the guard was saying about the prison and what had happened there. Bonnie had figured out that nearly forty years had passed –and she didn't know what had happened to her during that time. Sure, she had read some of Jules Verne's books, and some pretty strange things happened in them, but _time_ _travel –_was that even a possibility?

_No one would believe me if I told them,_ she thought with certainty. _They'd try to get me committed to an insane asylum or something. _I _wouldn't believe anyone who told me such a thing._

_But what will I do?_

It hit her then –she was alone. Her parents were gone, and probably dead. She had no friends. She knew of no one else that this had happened to –but there _had _been a lot of strange and suspicious things going on at Alcatraz…

She walked outside into the sunlight and squinted, staring at the far-off San Francisco skyline. What could have changed in 40 years? The styles, certainly. She had gotten a few looks for her dress. Would they still have places that she could go, soup kitchens and such? They had gone through the guards' quarters –there was nothing left in them. She had nothing. Nothing even in her pockets, just a small hunk of pyrite around her neck. Her hand closed over it protectively. It was something to hold onto.

And that was going to be a problem, because she saw that to get off the island, you needed a ticket. And she didn't have such a thing.

_I have to get off, without someone finding out who I am,_ she thought. She might be able to say she lost her ticket… but it was unlikely.

She spotted the boy who had woken her up standing with a group of people that were probably family or friends. He was on the outskirts of their group with some wires in his ears, and didn't seem to be paying attention to anyone. He had a book under his arm, and peeking out of the book was… _yes,_ it was a ticket.

Bonnie, feeling guilty, brushed past him and pulled the ticket from the book. He'd be able to get off; he had people with him. She had no one. She had to do what she had to do.

It was a lesson she had learned from the men here at Alcatraz.


	3. Step by Step

Chapter 3: Step by Step  
_"One word led to another and then_  
_Then in no time we're up to ten_  
_My heart knew it was gonna end in love"_  
Step By Step ~The Crests

Lucy touched Bonnie's shoulder as she came to the end of chapter nine and said, "I think the rain is letting up now, Bonnie. And it's getting late. When do you need to go?"

"What time is it?" Bonnie asked.

"Nearly six," Lucy said.

"Oh! I'd… I'd better…" Bonnie stood up and looked around in confusion, especially down at her borrowed clothes.

"Your dress is nearly dry. You can use my office again," Lucy said.

"Thank you," Bonnie said, slipping across the room and through the door.

"It was just getting good, Doctor Sengupta," Tommy complained, but with a resigned smile on his face.

"I know. I'm sorry. But I don't want her father to worry." Lucy turned with interest to Ernest Cobb, who had remained silent for all of his stay in the infirmary. "Mr. Cobb, you got in the middle of a fight to find some peace and quiet here in the infirmary. But it hasn't been quiet, and you seem to be fine."

His eyes just stared at her from behind his glasses.

"Why is that, Ernest?" Lucy asked quietly. She noticed that Tommy was staring curiously, too.

"I like the story," he said finally.

"And you don't mind the noise?" Lucy pressed.

"A little," Cobb said. "Not that much."

_Interesting,_ Lucy thought, tapping her fingers against her skirt thoughtfully. "Thus far, you haven't wanted to talk to me, Mr. Cobb," she said. "I –" She stopped as Bonnie came back out of her office in her slightly damp, wrinkled dress.

The light caught the hints of red in her brown hair as she gathered up her schoolbooks. "I left the clothes and the blanket in your office," she said, running her fingers through her tangled hair.

"That's fine," Lucy said, smiling at her.

"I was wondering," Bonnie said, "if… um… I could come back. I have to do community service," she hurried on, "for school, and I don't really have time to go anywhere else to do it and this is right here, so…could I come, and …read, I guess, or help out here, or…?"

"I'm sure my patients would love that," Lucy said, smiling widely. "Come whenever you like, Bonnie."

"Bring _Ivanhoe_," Tommy put in.

Bonnie grinned at him. "I will."

"What day would you like to come?" Lucy said, thinking ahead and making plans.

"I don't know…Tuesdays?" Bonnie asked.

"That would be splendid," Lucy assured her. "I'll walk you out," she said.

* * *

Bonnie smiled happily, hugging her books to her chest. "Okay," she said. "Bye," she said, smiling at Tommy and the young man named Cobb as she left.

"So what did you think?" Lucy asked when they had left the infirmary and walked down the hall a ways.

"Tommy was nice enough," Bonnie said. "I liked reading to him. And I think he appreciated it." She looked at Lucy. "What did he do to end up here?"

"Do you really want to know, Bonnie?" Lucy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well," Bonnie said, "I think that if I don't ask, I won't ever know really know or understand him… I'll just know the way I perceive him. I'm not stupid," she said, a little strongly. "I know you can't be in prison, especially here, without doing something horrible. I just feel like I would rather know than not know."

Lucy nodded slowly. "That's very wise. Tommy Madsen murdered his wife."

"And Cobb?"

"Ernest Cobb was a sniper who killed at least nineteen people in random shootings," Lucy said.

Bonnie digested this information as Lucy walked her past the guard checkpoints and outside the prison. The sky was a blue-gray, but it had stopped raining. She figured Dad would be home soon –he'd let her in, so she wouldn't have to sit on the porch for long. She'd have time for her thoughts to stew then; best get all the information she could now.

"Do you know why?" she said.

"No, not really," Lucy said. "But many inmates here have suffered great emotional trauma early on in their life. Part of my job is seeing if I can remove that trauma and attempt to rehabilitate them."

They reached the outer wall of the prison. "I hope you succeed," Bonnie said.

"I do, too," Lucy said. "I'll see you Tuesday?"

"Yes," Bonnie said, letting a smile cross her lips.

"Good," Lucy said. "I'll tell the guards you'll be coming."

* * *

She had been sitting on her front stoop for about fifteen minutes when her Dad walked up the sidewalk to see her sitting there. "Bonnie?" he asked. "What're you doing out here?"

"I forgot my house key this morning," she said, standing up.

"Where've you been, then? It poured like the dickens," he said, opening the door with his key and letting her into their silent apartment.

"I met Doctor Sengupta on the boat over, and she offered to let me stay in her office and do homework." Bonnie put her books down and went to the kitchen. "Are sandwiches all right for supper, or do you want me to warm something up?"

"No, make what you want," her father said. He didn't seem to have heard her previous statement. His lean five-foot ten frame sprawled out into his armchair as a hand ran through his brown hair that was beginning to show shocks of grey near the temples. "Did you go to see your mother this afternoon?"

"Yes," Bonnie said, preparing sandwiches for them both. "She looked better today. She had more color."  
"Good," he said tiredly. "That's good."

"You'll see her Tuesday, won't you?" Bonnie asked quickly, setting the sandwiches on plates.

"Yes." He gave her a perplexed look. "I always go on Tuesdays; it's my afternoon off."

"I just wondered," Bonnie said, handing him the sandwich. "Bon appetite."

"Thanks, Bon," he said. "I know you've taken a lot on yourself since your Mother got sick. I just want you to know I appreciate it."

"I don't mind, Dad," she said. "Honestly, I don't." She bit into her sandwich.

She didn't know why she didn't tell him. It wasn't lying –she just wasn't telling him about her day, but that wasn't too unusual. It was Mother's custom to bring up the question "what did you do today?" over supper. They had slacked in her absence. She just didn't know how her dad would feel about it.

And she wanted to go. She couldn't really say why, but there was something… the lure of the unknown, or the strangeness of the men… whatever it was, Bonnie knew that she needed to go back, to find out what the draw was, if nothing else.

* * *

"You know, Mr. Cobb, I was brought to Alcatraz primarily for you," Lucy said, placing the chair Bonnie had vacated near his bed.

He gazed at her steadily through his glasses, shifting his straightjacketed arms only slightly.

"And you have shown a remarkable resistance to talking with me," Lucy said, "and a continuing quest to be placed in solitary confinement or some equally quiet place. I'm concerned, now that you're resorting to placing yourself in the middle of a fight."

All he said was, "And?"

Lucy crossed one leg over the other, itching to be out of her heels. "I propose a compromise, Mr. Cobb. Come and talk to me once a week. I don't much care what we talk about," Lucy said, "as long as we talk." She threw in the rest of the deal. "Bonnie wants to come back and read. It will not be perfectly quiet, but you seemed to stand it pretty well today. If you'll do that, and don't get yourself into any more fights, I'll let you stay in the infirmary for the rest of that day." She let him think this over. "Do we have a deal?"

He locked eyes with her. "Can I spend the night as well?" he asked.

"If you like," Lucy said, telling herself that she shouldn't be surprised, but she was anyway.

"Deal," he said, his eyes sliding away.

"Good," she said, standing. "We'll start Tuesday."

"Today's Friday," Tommy noted. "Only four more days."

* * *

_Present Day_

Bonnie sat on the ferry and watched the buildings grow closer and closer. What was she going to do? She had no money. Nothing. She was alone in a strange world of difference –she had already seen two people talk into little rectangular boxes like they would a phone, and blushed at the sight of a woman with a very small pair of shorts and an indecently low top.  
She scanned the rest of the people, and her gaze stopped on a man whose dark jacket seemed out of place. In fact, it seemed like the only thing that was familiar to her. She stood and walked over to sit down in the seat in front of him, and glanced at his face.

She knew him.

The gasp wouldn't be stopped –it came right out of her chest in relief and thankfulness. He was here! Maybe the others were here –Tommy, and –

His eyes looked up and met hers, and there was recognition there.

"You know me?" She said. "Please –do you know what I'm –what we're doing here? What's going on?"

"No clue kid," said the man, whose named she remembered being Jack. "Just woke up, and I was here."

"My name's Bonnie," she whispered.

"I know," he said. "Look, when we get off the ferry, don't follow me."  
Her hopes died. "But… I haven't got anywhere to go," she whispered. "I don't have anything."

He scowled down at the ground, but then his expression softened. Digging around in his pocket, she saw him pull out a key and a wad of dollar bills. Where did he get them? He split them and gave half to her. She held them tightly in her hands.

"Good luck," he told her as the ferry docked. She watched him walk off, and then she resolutely turned and went the other direction.

At least one person had made it from her time at Alcatraz. There _must_ be more.

She closed her eyes and hoped.

**AN: Thank you SO MUCH for all who reviewed! Y'all ROCK! Please continue! XD**


	4. Sound of Silence

Chapter 4: Sound of Silence

_"You do not know  
Silence like a cancer grows  
Hear my words that I might teach you  
Take my arms that I might reach you"  
_

Sounds of Silence ~Simon and Garfunkel

"Hi, Mother," Bonnie said, slipping into her mother's hospital room and setting her book bag down on the floor by the bed. Her mother's eyes fluttered open and focused on her.

"Bonnie," she said, smiling tiredly. "How was school?"

"Good," she said. "We're still on _Ivanhoe_. And math is still easy."

"That's good," she whispered. "Are you making friends?"

"Yes," Bonnie said. They had only been here for a month –San Francisco had good doctors, and that was the priority at the moment. She didn't want her mother to worry –and 'friends' had a wide span of connotation, right? "How do you feel today?" she asked.

"Better," her mother said. "Every day, a little bit more. But I want to hear about you."

"Well…" Bonnie cast about, searching for something to talk about. Seeing her mother everyday for fifteen minutes after school left her a little exhausted for conversation topics. "I met a doctor on Friday, coming back on the boat. Her name is Lucille Sengupta."

"Really?" Mother asked, interested. "What is she like?"

"She's young, and she's a doctor of psychiatry," Bonnie said. "She's Indian. She let me sit in the infirmary. I locked myself out of the house," Bonnie admitted with a bit of chagrin.

"Well that was kind of her," Mother said. "Was that the day you almost missed the boat?"

"Yes," Bonnie said. "Speaking of which, I've got to run."

"Alright," her mother said with a smile. "I love you, Bonnie."

Bonnie bent over the hospital bed and gave her mother a kiss. "Love you, Mother."

"See you tomorrow," her Mother said.

"No, not tomorrow. Tomorrow's Tuesday," Bonnie said. "Dad will be here."

"Oh, that's right," Mother said. "See you Wednesday then."

"Bye!" She exited the hospital room and bounded down the hallway towards the stairs. She wanted to make the boat on time today.

* * *

_Tuesday_

"So how'd it go?" Madsen asked him expectantly after the guards left. The hand cuffed to the bed shifted its position, making a clink against the bed frame.

Ernest Cobb glanced at him from the bed he had been pushed down onto by the guards and hoped that he wouldn't move his hand again. "Okay," he finally said. He hoped that by talking now, Madsen would let him be later. He couldn't stand excess chatter, excess noise… excess people. He only really wanted to talk when he had to.

"That's it? What'd you talk about? It was half an hour."

It had felt like an eternity. "Guns," he said. "How to shoot. Things like that." He shrugged as best he could in a straightjacket.

"No deep dark secrets?" Madsen asked with a grin on his face.

"She's working up to them," Cobb said, his voice clipped and short.

"Got it," Madsen said, leaning back on his own cot. "I'll shut up now… you've only got another hour, though."

Cobb shifted his arms again in the canvas, thinking. Only another hour… until that girl came with her book. Bonnie.

He was bothered a bit by the noise –but her voice wasn't a monotone buzz, so it didn't grate. He had to listen. And the story was interesting. He'd much prefer to read the words himself, but that wasn't going to happen, obviously. On the whole, it was better than being in his cell with the yapper.

Only one more hour.

* * *

Bonnie didn't know _why _she was excited; she just knew she was. She practically ran to her house, quickly changing out of her school dress into blue jeans and a blouse. Grabbing up _Ivanhoe _and a few other schoolbooks, she shot out again, only pausing to double check that she had her keys. She knew that some of the guards didn't even lock their doors, but she couldn't quite wrap her mind around that concept, and neither could her father. So they used the locks on the doors.

Getting through the security of the prison took time, but it was pretty painless. The guards on duty just said, "Oh, Doctor Sengupta's expecting you," and let her through. She realized she didn't know them, and decided that was good, because they wouldn't tell on her.

"Tell on" her… Bonnie didn't know if she considered going to read to prisoners in the infirmary something bad or disobedient. She didn't even know if her father and mother would have a problem with it. She just wasn't sure how to explain to anyone who asked _why _exactly she wanted to do it.

Hopefully going back would help her figure that out.

"Hi," she said, entering the infirmary and smiling at Tommy and Ernest.

"You're back," Tommy said, grinning.

"Yeah, I am," Bonnie said, pulling the chair she had sat in before in between the two beds. "I said I would be. Where'd we leave off?" she asked, flipping back through her book.

"Ivanhoe just won," Tommy said.

"We don't _know_ that the Disinherited Knight is Ivanhoe," Bonnie said, flipping to the spot.

"He is," Ernest said, surprising Bonnie and Tommy both.

"Have you read it before?" Bonnie asked.

She felt… very gratified that he met her eyes when he said, "I know the story."

"Oh, good then," she said. "We don't have to recap what's been going on so far. Okay." She found her spot. "Here we go. Chapter nine. Please forgive my atrocious attempts at the French language." She cleared her throat and began. " _'William de Wyvil and Stephen de Martival, the marshals of the field, were the first to offer their congratulations to the victor, praying him, at the same time, to suffer his helmet to be unlaced, or, at least, that he would raise his visor ere they conducted him to receive the prize of the day's tourney from the hands of Prince John. The Disinherited Knight, with all knightly courtesy, declined their request, alleging, that he could not at this time suffer his face to be seen, for reasons which he had assigned to the heralds when he entered the lists…'"_

* * *

_Present Day_

He sat up in the hotel room, waiting. His fingers were finally fading back to their normal color –he had had to scrub to get the black paint off. He checked the Winchester for nearly the tenth time. Yes, it was still perfectly aligned. And there was the picnic basket, lying open quietly, waiting for him to dismantle the gun and conceal it in its hiding place.

It wouldn't be long now.

This was different from all his other shootings. He wasn't picking random targets out of his scope. He had a set person in mind.

They had called his previous kills "shootings." They weren't premeditated. Well –yes, but the person he _wanted_ to kill was never in the crowd. She never appeared in his scope. But this –this was very much premeditated.

His first genuine murder.

Cobb didn't care. He was genuinely angry for the first time since he was twenty, and he was going to take it out on the source of his anger.

He sighted through the scope on his gun to the scuzzier room he had rented in the building across the street. The painted target stood out against the window shade. He was good at waiting.

"There's forty seven slats in the picket fence," he murmured to himself. "One….two…"

The shade pooped up, and he could see the Doctor standing right in front of the target. He waited just long enough for her to read the words "I can see you" –and then pulled the trigger.

Red blood spurted and she fell backwards. He couldn't see her anymore.

He set his glasses back on his nose and quickly dismantled his Winchester with practiced movements.

She was dead, or would be soon.

He stowed the parts in the picnic basket and picked it up, leaving the room. It made him absurdly happy.

She deserved it, after all.

**AN: a little shorter than usual, sorry. Thanks so much for the reviews/favorites/alerts! Please tell me what you think :D**


	5. Heart and Soul

Chapter 5: Heart and Soul

_"Heart and soul, I fell in love with you_  
_Heart and soul, the way a fool would do_  
_Madly; because you held me tight"_

Heart and Soul ~The Cleftones

She had been coming and reading for about five weeks. As time went on, they plowed through large chunks of Ivanhoe, and after reading for a while, sometimes Bonnie and Tommy would just talk about the characters, or…about anything, really. At first, Bonnie was hesitant to do it. She had inferred, from some things Lucy had said and the way Cobb acted, that he didn't like chatter. So she had asked.

"Do you mind if we talk?" she said quietly, being sure to make eye contact with him.

The dark eyes behind the black-rimmed glasses met hers warily.

"I won't if it bothers you," Bonnie promised. "I'll just read."

"As long as it's not loud," he finally said.

"Okay," Bonnie said, nodding. "Let me know if it bothers you."

He nodded, and his eyes slid away from hers.

Bonnie always tried to be very conscious of how he was doing noise-wise. He'd get twitchy every so often, and then she'd lower her voice and try to keep it very measured. He never really contributed to the conversation.

One day Tommy wasn't there. Lucy said she had no control over Tommy and his 'treatments.'

"We'll just have to catch him up to speed next week," Bonnie mumbled. She grabbed her chair and scooted it closer to Cobb. He stared at her.

"I thought you'd rather read yourself than have me read," Bonnie explained, sitting down right beside him and holding the book out in front of them both. He was always in a straightjacket, so he couldn't hold the book by himself.

He looked down at the book, and then at her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Bonnie said quietly.

She would read both open pages silently, and then look at Cobb for some signal that he was finished reading and she could turn the page. He'd always be looking at her. After a few times, she said, "I can turn them faster if you want me to."

"No," he said.

"Okay," she said, smiling.

They sat in comfortable silence for nearly an hour. Bonnie wondered, once in a while, if he was actually reading, or just looking at her. She didn't feel threatened in any case, so she let it go.

She never really felt threatened at Alcatraz at all, except for once. Lucy brought a man from another room into the infirmary once Bonnie was already there. He was shivering and wrapped in a blanket. The first thing he said was, "Who's the peach?"

Bonnie's eyes slowly left the page. _Do I look like I'm from Georgia? _It was the only thing that came to her mind.

"That is none of your business, Mr. Petty," Lucy said crisply. "Into bed, please."

"Gonna tuck me in? I won't mind."

"_Mr. Petty_." Lucy's voice became irritated. "Please don't make me call one of those guards in here. I like the infirmary the way it is."

He shut up long enough to lie down and let Lucy click his handcuffs shut before he began to mumble to himself. It sounded like what Joy Kim spoke at school; she was Chinese. Satisfied, Lucy went back to her office.

Bonnie went back to reading quietly to Tommy and Ernest, but the man soon switched back to English and said something that she really never wanted to hear ever again.

As she sat there choked, blotchy red, and speechless, Tommy lashed back, "You shut your stinking mouth, Petty, or so help me God I'll shut it for you, you little scumbag sonova–"

"Why? Got yourself some tail, Madsen?" Petty said, coughing. "Is she–"

"Shut. Up." Ernest said, his voice cutting clearly through Petty's sullen mumbles. The anger in his voice was incredibly different from his usual quiet tones and it was enough to cut Petty off. Lucy's reappearance ensured it would not start again.

"Mr. Petty," she said, her voice dripping with venom, "If you make _one more peep_ I will _muzzle you,_ as Mr. Madsen said, 'so help me God'. And then I will sacrifice a day of peace for a guard that will come in here and _sit on you_ until you can be moved to your cell. Am. I. Understood?"

And that was the end of that.

Relatively unscarring, thankfully (except she turned red at the thought of it), and extremely embarrassing (what an understatement), but the incident proved to her what she had only begun contemplating in the back of her head: she trusted Tommy and Ernest.

And they wouldn't let anything happen to her.

Which, coming from convicted felons, was something she took as an extreme compliment and with great gratitude.

Lucy seemed to see that, and after weeks of whatever it was they talked about, she deemed the straightjacket unnecessary and downgraded Ernest to handcuffs, like Tommy.

It was because of such trust that, three months in, when Tommy missed another day, Bonnie didn't wonder why Ernest wanted two rubber bands. Her dad came home sometimes with stories of the crazy things the inmates would get into, different kinds of things they'd make into weapons or the like.

She had always been her dad's outlet; mom wasn't good talking about his job; some things scared her. _Bonnie handles it just fine_, her dad would say to anyone about just about anything. These days it was more than true. She wondered, once in a while, if her father was disappointed by not ever having a boy, but she had come to realize he didn't care about things like that. If he wanted someone to throw a ball around with, he'd do it with her. If he wanted someone to talk to about subjects that might not sit well with her mother, he'd talk to her.

But even in spite of her Father's stories, she didn't wonder. She just said she'd poke around and see if she could find any. She finally got a few together, and when she gave them to him, she got up the courage to ask him why.

"I'll show you," he said, "if you can cut this with something." He pulled a magazine out of his shirt.

When she raised her eyebrows, he said, "I traded for it. I'm not going to _read_ it."

He didn't know that the nature of her surprise came not from the type of magazine (something to do with cars) but from the fact that she didn't think she had ever heard him talk this much at one time.

Shrugging it off, she said, "I'll cut it. Where?"

"Along the pencil line." Ah, here was the quiet sniper she was used to.

She examined it, and found the pencil line to be almost to the binding of the magazine, stopped for an inch or two, and then continued to the end of the pages. "Through all the pages?"

He nodded. "Along the pencil line," he repeated.

"Alright. Let me find something." They kept anything sharp and surgical carefully locked away, but Bonnie knew Lucy had a pair of scissors in her desk drawer. Lucy was at some fancy dinner with Dr. Beauregard and the Warden and some other bigwigs; she wouldn't mind her using them. She snipped through the whole magazine 'til the pencil lines stopped, and then poked the scissors through the pages and continued. Once finished, she replaced the scissors where she had gotten them. She walked back into the room and handed the magazine back, settling down into what had become known as "Bonnie's chair." Right now it was right next to Ernest's bed.

"Let's see it, then," she said.

He took the magazine and the rubber bands and rolled the magazine up, wrapping the bands around both ends of the magazine. Then he pulled what looked like some sort of magnifying glass out of his pocket and pushed it onto the end of the magazine tube. He reached up and pulled his glasses off with one hand, and then popped the lens out of one of the eyes and slid it into the slit in the magazine. "Ta da," he said quietly.

"Wow," Bonnie said, looking from what must have been a spyglass to him. "That's –really amazing, Ernest." She smiled. "How long did it take you to figure out how to do that?"

"Not that long," he said. "I just had to get the parts."

"Can I see it?" she asked.

He handed it to her. She hesitantly looked through the spyglass and was met with a very blurry wall. "It's meant to see further than the wall, I take it," she said, laughing.

"I can see out, from my cell," he said. "At the right angle, I can see the city."

"With this?" Bonnie said incredulously, looking at what she held in her hands. "Wow."

He smiled, a proud, happy smile. It made his face look incredibly different, especially now that he wasn't wearing his glasses. His brown eyes gleamed, now freed from their glass and plastic.

She had never gotten those fluttery feelings about boys (okay, once, but she regretted it once she saw the guy make fun of one of the girls who she was just beginning to be friends with. She had done her best to kill the feeling and succeeded admirably), but she wondered if this wasn't the beginnings of one of those fluttery feelings.

Lucy's heels tapping on the floor announced her impeding arrival, and Ernest quickly dismantled his scope and stowed the various parts on his person before she arrived back in the infirmary. He was just popping his glasses lens back into place when she walked in.

He cast a furtive glance at Bonnie, maybe to see if she'd give him away.

She wasn't sure if he was supposed to have his scope, but she didn't see the harm in it. And hey, it wasn't her place to rat him out. She winked at him and picked up her book.

And those fluttery feelings didn't intensify, no sir they did not.

* * *

_Present day_

Bonnie opened her eyes and stared up at the stains on the ceiling of the one room apartment she was renting. It was old and dilapidated and she was afraid to touch the oven for fear of burning the place down, but it was cheap, and she could pay for it.

She worked as a waitress in a café from 6:30 in the morning 'til noon, and then went and shelved books in the library and cleaned the back room and did whatever else she could think of. The first job was minimum wage and the one at the library was on a job-by-job basis, but it was enough to buy food and scrape together enough money to pay the rent on this apartment.

Pretty good, she thought, considering she had only been in the future a month.

She had holed up in the library the first day, reading anything she could think of in relation to Alcatraz and this new century, even learning how to use a computer (a helpful librarian showed her, and that's when she got the job at the library; Mrs. Stone thought she was younger than she was). Any day that the café didn't have shifts for her she spent by the pier where the ferry to Alcatraz docked, in the hopes that she would see someone, _anyone_ that she recognized. So far, she had been unsuccessful.

Bonnie rolled out of bed and pulled on her modern clothes from where they hung on pegs. She had discovered used clothing stores on her second day in the future. She had trouble thinking of this as the present, but it was easier now. She had acclimated.

She just felt like she was in limbo, like she wasn't really living.

* * *

" –and an extra side of potatoes, please," the large man with the ponytail said, handing her back the menu.

"Got it," She said, tucking the menu under her arm and scribbling it onto her pad. "Anything else?"

"Um, my friend is coming in a couple of minutes, and she wants the enchilada platter," he said. "And a tall glass of tea."

"Okay! I'll get that right out for you," Bonnie said, smiling and heading back to the kitchen to drop off the order. Then she got his coke and the tea and brought them out to the table. A blond woman with short hair was just slipping into the other chair at the outside table.

"Hey Doc. What'd you get me?" she asked, tossing her jacket over the back of her chair.

"Enchilada platter, but if you want to change it –" he said.

"Nah, that's fine," she said. "Thank you," she said to Bonnie as Bonnie sat down the drinks.

"You're welcome," Bonnie said. "And your food will be right out."

As she headed back to check on some of her other tables, she couldn't help think that the woman's eyes were very familiar, somehow.

* * *

" 'Scuse me?" the blond woman said, flagging Bonnie down.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Can I have another cup of tea, and some of that pie to go?"

"Of course!" Bonnie said. "We've got several pies: apple, pecan, blueberry... which would you like?"

"Apple, please. And make it a big slice," the woman said, grinning at her.

"Always," Bonnie said, telling the cook before grabbing the pitcher of tea and filling up the woman's glass. When she retrieved the pie and brought it out, she heard the tail end of their conversation.

"Rebecca, he's still, like, your grandfather…"

"I know, Doc, but I've got to find him."

"But aren't you interested in, I don't know, getting to know him? If we catch him, I mean. If it was me –"

"But it's not you, Doc. It's me. And I've got to find Tommy Madsen first, and worry about everything else, family or otherwise, afterwards."

Bonnie nearly dropped the pie.

_Tommy Madsen._

_He's still, like, your grandfather…_

She knew those eyes were familiar.

"Here's your pie," she said quietly, setting it down. She put down the bills as well, and found an excuse to wipe down a table nearby to try to hear what they would say next, but that seemed to be the end of the conversation. They paid and left.

Bonnie stuck her head out of the café to watch them leave, wondering just _how _they knew Tommy Madsen was still alive to find. Come to think of it, she _had_ seen them before –on the Alcatraz ferry. Several times.

Would they believe her if she told them she was from Alcatraz?

They were near the end of the street –if she ran, she could catch them–

But then her eyes caught sight of the figure across the street that was _also_ observing the man and the woman. And he was much more familiar and comforting than they were.

She was running through traffic before she thought, darting around cars that honked angrily in her rush to get to him. "Tommy!" she yelled over the cars. "Tommy!"

And then she was through and he had seen her.

She threw her arms around him in relief and happiness, and hoped she wasn't crying, though she suspected she was. "Tommy," she whispered again, and felt his arms hesitantly wrap around her.

"Bonnie?"


	6. I'm Telling You Now

**AN: I'm sorry this one is short! But if you review, I promise to post another chapter ASAP! I just forget to post because I'm so busy! Please motivate me to remember!**

Chapter 6- I'm Telling You Now

"I'm telling you now  
I'm telling you right away  
I'll be staying for many a day  
I'm in love with you now"  
"I'm Telling You Now" ~Freddie and the Dreamers

Her mother was coming home today. The doctors had decided she was strong enough, and only had to stay quiet and calm in order for her to recover fully. Bonnie sat with her on the boat on the way over to Alcatraz, telling her mother all about their house and their neighbors because she had realized her mother had never been to Alcatraz, even though they had lived there four months. She had been in the hospital all that time.

"And Mrs. Carlyle has a new baby," Bonnie continued, "a girl named Samantha, but she's very good and doesn't cry all that often."

"Lovely," her mother said with a smile. "Is there anyone your age, Bonnie? I thought you told me about a boy once or twice."

"Oh yes," Bonnie said, frowning. "Paul. But he's a year younger than me, and not that mature."

"What makes you say that, dear?"

"He's rude. And he made fun of one of my friends at school," Bonnie said firmly, putting an end to the subject.

As the boat docked, she helped her mother down the gangplank and into her father's arms. She had collected her mother at the end of the school day, and now Dad would take things from here. It was Tuesday, and while she had said last week that she might be late, she really wanted to get to the Infirmary as soon as possible. Bonnie picked up the suitcase and followed her parents to their house, which she had tried to spruce up as much as humanly possible.

"Oh, Bonnie, you've done such a good job," her mother commented as she took in the clean kitchen and living room.

"Thanks, Mother," Bonnie said. "I'll be back in an hour or two, okay?" She grabbed her book. They only had two more chapters of _Ivanhoe_ left.

"Where are you going?" her mother asked, surprised. Her Dad looked up as well.

Bonnie fidgeted. "I… I volunteer and help Dr. Sengupta in the Infirmary," she finally said.

"How long have you been doing this?" her mother asked.

"Three months."

"Why didn't you mention it, Bonnie?" Her father asked.

"I… it just never came up, that's all. It's just on Tuesdays," she said, twisting the fabric of her skirt into an accordion. "I love it, really I do."

"Is Dr. Beauregard okay with this?" Her father asked.

"Yes, sir. He doesn't mind. And Lucy really appreciates it."

"I suppose it's all right, George," her mother whispered. "Let her go."

"Alright," her father finally agreed.

Bonnie beamed at them and practically skipped to the door. "I'll be back in a few hours, then," she said.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Miss McAllister," Dr. Beauregard said when she entered the infirmary. He was taking blood from a man she hadn't seen before, who was lying on his bed with a scowl on his face.

"Good afternoon, sir," she replied with a smile. The Doctor was a grouchy, irritating man to most people, but she had heard him talk about his own two children once, and she figured that he didn't mind her, maybe had a soft spot for her.

"More adventures from Sir Walter Scott?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Hmm."

"Bonnie, where've you been?" Tommy called.

"I had to bring my mother home from the hospital," Bonnie said, sitting in her chair and flipping through the book to find her spot. "The doctors say she's strong enough to stay at home now. Sorry I'm late. Where'd we stop?"

"Rebecca's in danger of being burned at the stake," Tommy said.

"It sounds like just what Mr. Sylvane might need to cheer him up," the Doctor said, and Bonnie wasn't sure if he was joking or if it was a jab at the inmate.

Bonnie smiled shyly at him from her spot by Ernest. "Hi, Mr. Sylvane. I'm Bonnie. Have you ever read Ivanhoe?"

"I know the general idea," the man said reluctantly. His voice was rough. "And it's Jack." As he looked at her, some of the lines in his face smoothed out.

"He's grumpy because he missed visiting day with the little woman," Tommy supplied.

Jack's scowl deepened again.

"I'm sorry," Bonnie said honestly.

"Don't worry about it, kid," he mumbled.

"It's Bonnie," she said, smiling. She could see Ernest begin to fidget and clench his jaw in the corner of her vision so she cracked open her book and said, "Okay. Chapter 43. '_Our scene now returns to the exterior of the Castle, or Preceptory, of Templestowe, about the hour when the bloody die was to be cast for the life or death of Rebecca. It was a scene of bustle and life, as if the whole vicinity had poured forth its inhabitants to a village wake, or rural feast. But the earnest desire to look on blood and death, is not peculiar to those dark ages…'_

* * *

_Present Day_

"Bonnie? What the hell?" Tommy Madsen said, looking down at her. She had never really realized how tall he was. "What're you doing here?"

"I …I don't know," Bonnie said. "What are we _all_ doing here?"

"Couldn't say, kid," he said, scanning the street like he was looking for someone.

"What's the matter?" Bonnie asked, looking around as well.

"Look, I've got to go, Bonnie."

"I just found you!" Bonnie protested, grabbing his lapels. She wasn't going to let him go, not yet…

"It's okay, kid! I'll come see you when it's clear, okay? Have you got a place?"

She told him the address and apartment number.

"Hey, it's gonna be fine, Bonnie. I'll explain what I can then. Okay?"

"Okay," she said hesitantly.

"See you," he said, disentangling himself from her grasp and heading back into the alley.

She supposed she should get back to the café before her boss fired her.


	7. You Were on My Mind

**Chapter 7: You Were On My Mind**

_"When I woke up this morning_  
_you were on my mind_  
_I've got troubles, I've got worries,_  
_I've got wounds to bind"_  
'You were on my mind' ~We Five

Next Tuesday rolled around and Bonnie was rather excited, because Lucy had heard her try to wrestle with her Chemistry homework and had told her about an inmate that she was working with who had a chemistry degree. Bonnie knew that she really could use whatever help he had to offer, because science was a subject she did not enjoy, but wanted to do well in if she ever had any hope of doing anything in the healthcare world. She gathered up her chemistry book and homework, as well as _Ivanhoe _–they only had one more chapter left, which was exciting! –and dashed out the door, calling a hasty goodbye to her mother.

Mother was doing well, getting around the house fine and receiving the calls of the other wives on the island without Bonnie's help. Bonnie hoped she was making some friends with the other mothers, even if Bonnie had found it hard to tolerate them.

She waved at the guard on the side entrance, and he nodded and let her in. He was used to the routine by now –it was creeping up on four months that she had been reading and coming every week. Quietly making her way to the infirmary, Bonnie stopped short at the doorway, staring at the man in the bed nearest the door.

He looked like he had been hit by a freight train and then run over by it.

"Bonnie," Tommy said sharply, and she looked up, not used to hearing that tone of voice from him, "Go home. You don't need to read today."

She stared at him. "What? But… it's the last chapter, and Lucy said that –"

"Bonnie. Go back home," Tommy repeated, a hard look in his eye.

"Why?" She said, suddenly angry. Didn't they want her? Had they gotten tired of her?

"Because of him," Tommy said, nodding towards the unconscious man.

"What's the matter with –"

"He's a child killer," Ernest spoke, surprising her with the intensity of his gaze. "We don't want you in here with him." They had obviously conferred together before she had arrived.

_Child killer? _She stared at the man, obviously hurt very badly. "What?"

"He kills little kids," Tommy said.

_Oh, really? Thank you for the translation, Tommy. _"There's nothing he can do to me; he's unconscious and handcuffed –"

"Bonnie," Tommy said, cutting her off. "Don't make us raise hell and get you taken out of here. Go."

"You're kidding me," Bonnie said flatly. The anger was burning her chest. Yes, she could somewhat see where they were coming from, but it didn't mean they got to tell her what to do. It didn't mean that this man was some kind of threat.

"Bonnie," Ernest said, and there was a clear warning in his voice.

It hurt.

"Fine," she snapped. "I'll go. Happy? But don't you think it's a _little_ hypocritical of you," she said, using her fingers to demonstrate 'little', " since both of you have killed people much closer to my age than _he_ has?"

With the bitterness still burning on her tongue, she turned on her heel and walked out. They could explain to Lucy why she wasn't there.

* * *

"Well, that went well," Tommy muttered once Bonnie was gone.

Ernest closed his eyes, wondering why it felt like she had delivered a spike to the heart instead of words.

"I hope they use the shock therapy on him," Tommy said vengefully. "I hope they fry his brains."

"Why?" Ernest muttered, and then couldn't believe he had actually cared enough to want to know.

"This is the best thing about this place, you know? The rest of the time I'm either in my cell, surrounded by guys I don't like, or here getting blood drawn, feeling like the personal blood bank of the prison, or I'm _down there._"

Ernest knew where Tommy meant –below the hole, the place that few inmates knew about or went to, but where Tommy went at least once a week, and came back sullen and withdrawn.

"I mean, it's probably different for you; you like the quiet," Tommy continued. "But the quiet just makes me think about things I'd rather forget." He seemed to have run out of words, and sat and stared at the wall vacantly, perhaps remembering those selfsame things.

_It's probably different for you; you like the quiet._

Was Madsen right about him? Was the quiet really the best part about Alcatraz for him? He had gotten transferred for it…

No. No, it wasn't. His Tuesdays were the best part. And not because of the book, or the infirmary, but because of _Bonnie_. Bonnie, with her brownish-red hair and hazel eyes and her intuition –the intuition that seemed to know when he would start to panic because of the noise or the things he couldn't control.

He had never looked at girls after going to his mother's house because of that blond girl there –the one she had _kept,_ and cared about, instead of him. He always saw her face on girls –on the street, in his scope, and on the lady doctor… but not on Bonnie.

He had always seen Bonnie for what she was.

_"Don't you think it's a _little_ hypocritical of you, since both of you have killed people much closer to my age than _he_ has?"_

Ernest blinked. She had always seen him for what he was, too.

* * *

Two days after that incident, Bonnie still couldn't forget the look in their eyes when she had said her hurt-filled words. Yes, they were perfectly true, but she shouldn't have said them. She shouldn't have lashed out like that. They had only wanted her to be safe.

Granted, they could have gone about it in a better way, but perhaps they didn't know any other way to go about it.

After all, they had no power to physically take her out of the infirmary. Maybe the only way they had thought of to make her leave was to get her angry enough to stomp out.

Well, it had worked.

_But they didn't even think about reasoning with me? Asking politely, nicely?_

But they weren't 'nice' men.

And it was no excuse for her words. Just replaying the scene in her head made the guilt increase. And there were four more days until the next Tuesday.

_I'm so sorry,_ she thought.

And the worst part about it was that people were noticing. Her friends Joy and Patsy at school had noticed that she wasn't her usual self. Her mother had asked her twice if anything was wrong with her friends, or maybe a problem with boys.

And she didn't feel like she could tell them. Her friends wouldn't understand, and she didn't know how much contact her mother thought she had with the inmates.

_Yes,_ Bonnie thought._ I have a problem, but not with boys, exactly._

However, at supper that night Bonnie's father made some comment about stronger security on visiting day the next day, and Bonnie's head snapped up.

"Dad… what do you have to do to visit a prisoner?" she asked.

"Fill out a form or two," he said, "And they have to be allowed visitors, and they have to want to see you, of course. Why?"

Bonnie shrugged. "I just wondered if sometimes prisoners got any strange visitors."

"No. There isn't any chance to pass anything between people. You're separated by glass and have to speak through a telephone receiver to hear them," her father said, making short work of his meatloaf.

"Interesting," Bonnie said, and the conversation shifted to Mrs. Hastings, who was coming the next day to help Bonnie's mother hang some pictures.

* * *

The next day, coming home from school, Bonnie blended in with the crowd coming off the boat that went to the prison's main entrance. She had always seen the visitors come and go, and they made the boat quite crowded, but this was the first day she actually watched them closely. Some people were together, she observed, family units here to visit a brother or a son, but there were a substantial group of women alone who were probably going to visit husbands. Bonnie walked in behind them, attempting to blend in and watch what they did.

They all went and got forms from the officer behind a desk, so she did, too.

She used her school pencil and went through the form, putting name, address, inmate she wanted to see (she had to think about this, but finally she went with Ernest Cobb, because she had been looking at him when she delivered the blistering retort, and she had seen the hurt look in his eyes), relationship to inmate (Sympathetic listener? Rude girl? Book reader? She went with friend), and other information down. She hoped that it would just get filed and not read thoroughly. She didn't know what her father would think about her actually _visiting_ an inmate.

Come to think of it, she hoped she didn't see her father or anyone else who might recognize her. It would be awkward to explain.

* * *

"Visitor for Cobb?" the guard called into the room. Bonnie quickly stood from the hard chair and followed him through the doorway, grateful that she didn't know him. He looked very young. "Sit down, ma'am," he said, motioning to the second chair in a long line. "He'll be along in a minute."

Bonnie nodded and smiled awkwardly before smoothing her dress under her and sitting down in another chair just as hard as the last one. She picked up the telephone receiver peered curiously through the window of glass into the other room that held the prisoners. Soon someone was being shoved down into the chair in front of her.

Ernest.

They stared at each other for a moment, he with something akin to incredulity, and she with apprehension. He finally moved to pick up the receiver and held it to his ear, raising one eyebrow in expectation.

"I –I wanted to say I'm sorry," Bonnie said into the receiver. "I shouldn't have gotten mad the way I did –and I shouldn't have said those things. They were hurtful –"

"They were true," he interrupted her.

His voice sounded funny through the phone, but it was enough to make her tear up. "I'm sorry," she whispered, resisting the urge to rub her eyes. "Even if they were true, I had …I had no right to throw them in your face like that. And I'd like to ask your forgiveness."

He stared at her, as if the words were utterly foreign to him, but slowly, he said, "I…forgive you. But they were true, just the same."

Bonnie smiled at him sadly, inwardly wondering what had happened to him to make him shoot all those people. What had happened to all these men, to make the concept of forgiveness such a foreign thing? "Will you tell Tommy I'm sorry, if you see him?"

Ernest nodded.

Bonnie blushed, looking down. "I'm sorry I dragged you down here just so I could apologize…"

"It's all right," he said quietly. "I don't get visitors. This is …nice."

She smiled. "Well, I'm glad. Do… do you want to talk more, or…?"

"Sure," he said, the corner of his mouth turning up.

The flutter in her chest had returned with a vengeance.

* * *

_Present day_

Two days after her run in with Tommy Madsen, she had a knock on her door at 10:30 at night. She grabbed a walking stick that had been left behind by a previous tenant before moving to the door and calling out, "Who is it?"

"Bonnie, it's me."

She hurriedly undid the chain and deadbolt before moving her small nightstand away from the door. "Come in," she said, opening the door. As soon as he was in the room she locked the door back and moved the nightstand back.

She could see him staring around the room, and she crossed her arms defensively.

"You doing okay, kid?" he asked, finally looking at her.

"Working two jobs because I don't have any ID or proof that I'm as old as I say I am," Bonnie said. "Renting this because they don't ask questions and it's the only thing I can afford. Missing my parents, who are dead. I'm surviving, I guess. Why are we here, Tommy? And where is everyone else?" Bonnie asked quietly.

"I'm sorry," Tommy said. "I had no idea… you weren't supposed to come with us."

"What?" Bonnie whispered.

"The island was supposed to be evacuated, Bonnie. Why didn't you go?"

"I couldn't leave…"

"Yes, you could've."

"Fine. I _wouldn't_." Her voice cracked. "Tommy, what is going on _here_?" she demanded.

"Can't tell you."

"Tommy!" she snapped.

"It's _dangerous_ for you, Bonnie. Some very bad people will come after you if they even think you know a little bit of the story," Tommy said, looking very earnest.

"Won't they think you've told me anyway? And who are 'they'? Your granddaughter?"

She had finally managed to shock him. His blue-eyed stare was wide and unbelieving. "How –how'd you –"

"I waited their table," she said wryly. "They were talking a bit."

"What'd she say?" he demanded.

"Just that she had to catch you. Tommy, have you done something?"

His eyes became veiled, hooded. "You don't want to know, Bonnie. Don't ask me. Anything else, but not that."

She wondered if she had ever known this side of him. "Do you know of… anyone else?" she whispered.

"You mean Ernest?"

She barely nodded.

"I don't know, but Becky's been pretty busy, her and her team. They've been rounding the sixty-threes up."

"Sixty-threes?" she repeated.

"Alcatraz inmates, guards. Anyone who disappeared from Alcatraz in 1963."

"Oh," she whispered. "Where do they go?"

"Don't know. And I don't know what they'd do with you, so don't get caught, alright?" he said.

"I'll try," Bonnie mumbled, rubbing her face with her hand in an attempt to clear away some of her sleepiness.

His face softened somewhat. "Get some sleep, kid." He moved towards her door, but she grabbed his sleeve.

"Tommy, I –I get that you can't tell me, but please, just …come back," Bonnie begged. She _needed_ someone, and though he wasn't the person she _wanted,_ he was still her friend and she had to see him again.

"Hey," he said, pulling her into a hug, "Hey, it's gonna be okay, Bonnie. I'm gonna take care of you. You'll be all right."

Bonnie breathed in and tried to believe him.

He let her go and reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of bills. "Here." She started to object, but he pressed them into her hands, saying, "You need it. Get some decent stuff or save it to upgrade to a nicer place if you want. And I'll try to get you some of the ID's you'll need. We're here to stay, Bonnie."

She had known it all along, but the words were still very hard to hear.


	8. Some Enchanted Evening

**AN: so sorry! I've been busy and forgot to update! Thanks so much to the helpful person who reminded me! Hope you like this chapter :) (and yes I know the song is from South Pacific but I like this version better.)  
**

Chapter 8: Some Enchanted Evening**  
**

_"Some enchanted evening_  
_ you may see a stranger_  
_ Across a crowded room_  
_ And somehow you know,_  
_ You know even then"_

"Some Enchanted Evening" ~Jay and the Americans

"Mr. McKee, this is Bonnie," Lucy said quietly. "She's in need of a little chemistry help."

"Hi," Bonnie said, smiling shyly. "Thanks for helping me."

"No problem," the man in front of her with a long face (literally, not figuratively) and dark hair said. "What's the trouble?" He was handcuffed to his bed, but he was sitting on it, not lying down, so Bonnie sat down on the bed as well and opened her book.

"I really don't understand Stoichiometry, Mr. McKee," Bonnie said.

"It's basically just math," he said. "And call me Johnny."

"Math isn't my favorite subject, either," Bonnie admitted.

"She likes English better," Tommy put in from behind his screen, where the Doctor was drawing his blood.

"Hush," Bonnie said automatically. "I'm trying to learn."  
"Do you understand how the different chemicals go together, like NaCl is Sodium Chloride?" Mr. McKee asked.

"Yes," Bonnie said, nodding.

"All right, let me see your book," he said. She handed it over to him and watched as he read the pages she was having trouble with quickly. "No wonder you were having trouble," he muttered. "This book isn't clear at all."

"My teacher's not much better," Bonnie said.

"Okay. We'll take it one step at a time. Look at this problem here…"

* * *

"Congratulations, Miss McAllister," her chemistry teacher said as he handed back her test on Friday.

Bonnie stared in shock and joy at the 93 scrawled on the top of her test. She had gotten an A!

"Wow, Bonnie, where did you learn enough to get that grade?" her friend Joy whispered over her shoulder. "It sure wasn't here." Joy, a very good student, only got high B's on anything chemistry related.

"Nope. I can explain the concepts to you at lunch, though" Bonnie said, putting the test carefully into her book as the bell rang for lunch. She sat with Joy and her friend Patsy, working her way through a bologna sandwich as she explained what Johnny had told her about Stoichiometry, and she could see things were clicking in her friends' brains.

"Uh….Bonnie?"

All three of the girls looked up to see Paul Anderson standing above them, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, the selfsame boy Bonnie had told her mother was rude. But he was freakishly tall, and nearly eighteen, and she knew lots of girls around school thought he was cute.

"Could I… talk to you, for a minute?"

She had just taken a bite of her sandwich. "Okay," Bonnie said, after managing to chew and swallow. She stood. "What about?"

He led her a few paces away from her friends and shifted from foot to foot again. Bonnie looked up into his face and said, "Spit it out, Paul." She had found that the direct approach worked best with him.

"I was wondering, ah, if you'd want to go…to Prom. With me."

Bonnie stared at him. Prom? It was… oh. It was two weeks away. And then school would be out for the summer soon after that. Wow. _Answer him, Bonnie,_ her brain hissed. "Um…" well, that wasn't the greatest start, "Sure," she finished lamely, no other answer come quickly enough to her brain.

He burst into a grin. "Gee! That's swell of you, Bonnie. I guess I'll pick you up and we'll ride the boat out here and back, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," she said, still asking herself if she had just agreed to go to Prom with_ Paul Anderson._

"Great! I'll… I'll, uh, let you get back to your lunch," he said, turning back into Awkward Paul.

Bonnie nodded and walked slowly back to her friends.

"You just got asked to Prom!" Joy squealed. "How does it feel?"

"Surreal," Bonnie said.

"When will you get a dress?" Patsy asked.

"I don't know."

"You need to think about these things, Bonnie!" Patsy pressed.

Yup. She did.

* * *

"Mother! Mother?" Bonnie said, running up the porch steps and pushing open the screen door. "I need to –oh. Hi, Lucy."

Lucy smiled at her from her place on their couch beside Bonnie's mother.

"Bonnie, Doctor Sengupta has been telling me about herself," my mother said. "It's such an interesting story."

"I thought it was time I met your mother, since I've known you for ages," Lucy said.

"Oh," Bonnie said. Lucy was talking to her mother. That was a strange thought. "Um. Okay. That's nice."

"What did you need, dear?" my mother asked.

"Well… Paul asked me to Prom, and I said yes," Bonnie said.

"Paul? But Bonnie, isn't that the boy that you don't care for?" her mother asked, frowning.

"Yes, but he didn't ask me as a …a date, really," Bonnie said. "And I want to go, and it's probably not likely that anyone else will ask me, so I said yes."

"Oh," her mother said. "Well, I'm glad you're being kind to this boy."

"You'll have fun, Bonnie," Lucy said, smiling at me. "Dances are fun. And other boys will ask you to dance, hopefully."

Bonnie nodded. "I –I'm gonna start on my homework now."

"All right, dear," Mother said.

"And I guess I need a dress," Bonnie added.

"We'll see what we can do."

"See you later, Lucy," Bonnie said.

* * *

"This one," Bonnie said, displaying the dress catalogue for Lucy to see. She had read for an hour (they had moved on to Treasure Island now; Ivanhoe was finished) and how she was flipping through a catalogue that Joy had lent her. And at the back of the catalogue, she had finally found a dress she liked.

"Yellow would be lovely on you," Lucy said, looking at the dress. The sleeves were slightly off the shoulders, and then hem was somewhere between the floor and the knees. The skirt had body, but not so much to make it ridiculously poofy. And it was a warm yellow-gold color –not extraordinarily ostentatious, but bright enough to be cheerful.

Bonnie nodded, decided. Mother would like it, she was sure. She could go to the department store with her friends the next afternoon after school and try it on… and it was not the most expensive dress, so Dad would not have too much problem with it. And she could wear it again.

"What do you think?" she asked, holding up the catalog to Tommy and Ernest.  
"Looks real pretty, Bon," Tommy said, glancing around the orderlies who were taking blood again.

Bonnie worried about Tommy sometimes. It couldn't be good for him to have that much blood drawn on a regular basis.

"Do you like it?" she asked Ernest.

He looked from the picture to her face and slowly nodded. "It's beautiful," he said.

Bonnie wasn't sure why she was beaming, but she couldn't really stop. He had said 'it's,' not 'you're,' but she was acting as if he had.

She liked Ernest. Liked him a lot. And she knew it wasn't the best idea. She knew it was very unlikely that her feelings (whatever this liking constituted as) would be returned, but it wasn't enough to kill them. He was only about five years older than she was. _But there is no _future_ with him,_ her reasonable self objected. _I don't care,_ Bonnie thought back. _I'm not looking for a future. Just…here and now._

The orderlies finally backed off and left Tommy holding his arm and looking rather pale. "Get the dress, Bonnie," he said. "I bet it'd look good on you."

"If I get it, do you want to see it?" Bonnie asked.

Tommy and Ernest stared at her.

"You mean it?" Tommy asked.

"Sure. I could come before I leave for the dance," Bonnie said.

"That is a very nice idea, Bonnie," Lucy said, smiling from her desk. "I'd like to see it, too."

"So?" Bonnie asked.

"Yeah," Tommy said.

"I'd like that," Ernest said quietly.

Bonnie looked at him and caught the small smile in the corner of his mouth. "Okay," she said, "it's a date."

His small smile grew.

* * *

"Mother, look!" Bonnie said, pulling the dress out of the garment bag and holding it up to herself.

"Why, it's lovely, Bonnie!" her mother said with quiet pleasure. "You have good taste, dear."

"What do you think, Dad?" she asked, turning to her father.

"Real nice, honey," he said. "Have fun at the dance."  
Bonnie smiled. Going to Prom with Paul wasn't what she was looking forward to.

* * *

_Present Day_

She wanted answers. That was why she pulled him out of that car before it blew up. That and her duty. No other reason.

So what if he was her grandfather? She didn't owe him anything, and didn't want anything from him besides the answers to her questions.

But there was more pain than just the physical when he stabbed her.

She gasped as the knife drove into her side, and her knees buckled. Around the haze of black and red pain that seemed to take over all her senses, she felt some arms catch her and ease her to the ground. As her hands fumbled for the knife, he still her hands and said, "Don't pull out the knife, Becky, or you'll bleed out. Here, press."

Her vision was clearing –had she cried? Well, it _hurt_ –and she saw him crouched above her, wrapping his jacket around the knife that was still lodged in her abdomen.

"Press, Becky."

Becky? Nobody called her Becky.

"Sorry," he said, "But you can't take me in yet. Still some things I've got to do. You're gonna be okay. I promise."

_Okay?_ No, this was not okay. She was bleeding. He had _stabbed_ her.

His face left her field of vision and she heard the car engine –the car she had taken –start up and drive away. Rebecca coughed and tried to do what he had said, apply pressure. But her fingers were slippery. Slippery with her own blood.

Another motor grew closer and stopped. "Oh, Rebecca!"

Doc. That was Doc's voice. She tried to tell him to call 911, call Hauser, but all she could do was moan.

"Hang on," Doc said. "I'm getting help."

All she could think was,_ hold on to what?_

__**Please review! :)  
**


	9. God Only Knows

**AN: no seriously, please bug me. This whole story is done. I just forget to update. I WILL UPDATE IF YOU ASK! I PROMISE! Unless you don't care in which case please enjoy my chapter every few weeks.**

Chapter 9: God Only Knows

_"If you should ever leave me_  
_Though life would still go on believe me_  
_The world could show nothing to me_  
_So what good would living do me_  
_God only knows what I'd be without you"_

"God Only Knows" ~The Beach Boys

"What?" Bonnie asked. "Do I look stupid?"

"No," Ernest said. He and Tommy were both staring at her. "Not stupid at all."

"Then… I look okay?" Bonnie asked. Her mother had curled her reddish-brown hair into ringlets and let her wear her strands of real pearls. She wasn't sure if they went with the yellow dress, but they were pretty, so…

"You're gonna make that kid you're goin' with drop dead," Tommy said.

Bonnie laughed nervously. "I hope not."

Lucy said, "Turn around, Bonnie, so we get the full effect."

Bonnie slowly rotated in place, blushing her trademark beet red blush. When she face front again, Lucy smiled at her. "You'll be the prettiest girl there, Bonnie."

"I don't know about_ that_," Bonnie said wryly, smoothing her skirt.

"It's true," Ernest said. "You're beautiful."

She beamed and turned red all over again, but whispered, "Thanks, Ernest."

Doctor Beauregard came in from his smoke and took in the sight of her in her fancy dress. "Well, Miss McAllister, today must be a special occasion, since it most definitely isn't Tuesday."

"Yes. I'm going to a dance," Bonnie said, smiling.

"Prom," Lucy put in.

"Really?"

"Yes," Bonnie said.

"Well, you look like quite the young lady," Doctor Beauregard said.

"Thank you, sir,"

"How old are you now?"

"I'll be nineteen in three weeks," Bonnie said with a smile. "Almost done with high school."

"Any plans to go on to an institute of higher learning?" the Doctor asked, sitting down at his desk.

"Not right away, but I'd like to some day," Bonnie said. "Maybe study nursing or something like that."

"Nursing?" Doctor Beauregard repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I _have_ spent half the year here," Bonnie said with a laugh. "I hope I've picked up a thing or two."

"Well, good for you."

"Bonnie, I think you're going to be late," Lucy said, glancing at the clock.

"I always am," Bonnie said, laughing. "Goodbye! I'll tell you all about it Tuesday!" she addressed the whole room, but only looked at Ernest.

The corner of his mouth turned up, and she left, happy.

* * *

_Tuesday_

"Hello!" Bonnie said, entering the infirmary. Ernest seemed to be the only occupant –even Lucy and Doctor Beauregard were not in residence at the moment. "Is Tommy not here today?" she asked, sitting down beside him.

"No," Ernest said.

"Oh well," Bonnie sighed. Tommy was appearing with less and less frequency. She hoped that whatever reason he appeared in the infirmary so often was getting better, and not that something worse was happening.

"How was the dance?" Ernest asked, looking straight at her.

"It was all right," Bonnie said, smiling. "They decorated the gym very nicely. There were refreshments, and a band. I learned how to Charleston," she added. "My friend Patsy taught me. It was all very nice."

"Just nice?" he asked.

"It was… an interesting experience. How's that?" Bonnie said, laughing. Ernest shrugged. "To be honest, I had more fun getting dressed up and coming to see you than I did going to the dance," Bonnie admitted, a smile on her face still.

His brown eyes locked with hers, holding her in place with a strange intensity. "Why?" He asked.

Her mouth, she found, was suddenly dry. "I… I don't know…" she began, trying to get her thoughts in order, "You and Tommy –and Lucy, too –are my friends, and I feel like I know you better than my school friends, even though I see them every day… and Paul was…" _Not the person I wanted to be with, _her brain finished for her.

It was her turn to shrug.

Ernest's eyes widened slightly. "What?" he asked, in one of his sharper tones.

"He's not my favorite person," Bonnie said simply. "A little annoying and immature at times, that's all."

It wasn't, really. She had gotten a little inkling near the end of the dance that he was trying to work up the courage to maybe kiss her… so she had saved him the trouble and either studiously avoided him or left a good amount of space between them. She just didn't like him like that.

* * *

He didn't know why he had snapped, or why he felt relief now at her words… he just knew he did.

"What about you? Ever been to any dances?" Bonnie asked.

He had never had the chance. He ran away from the orphanage when he was twelve, and all formal education and childhood had ceased at the same time.

He just shook his head no.

"If they're all like mine, you're not missing much," Bonnie assured him.

He didn't know how she could make him feel better with just a few words –he didn't _like_ talking –but she could, and somehow it was all right because it was Bonnie.

"It's visiting day Friday," Bonnie said suddenly.

"Is it?" He never really remembered. He didn't have to. He had no reason to.

"Yes," Bonnie said, "It is. I was wondering, since you said you don't get visitors, if you'd… want me to visit. Like I sort of did the other time."

He knew the time –he remembered it vividly. She had apologized to him. Her hazel eyes, so open and warm, waited hopefully for his answer. And even though some part of him inwardly cringed at the thought of the whispers and other random snatches of conversation in the visitors' room, he found himself replying, "I'd like that."

And it was true.

Bonnie grinned happily, and he realized that he would do just about anything to see her smile.  
That should have bothered him. It didn't.

* * *

_Present Day_

"You shot me, Mr. Cobb. You _shot_ me, and I'd like to know why," Lucy said firmly, looking across the pristine white table to the man on the other side. He was pale from a month of living without sunlight, but then, all the sixty-threes were.

"A target," he said dully. "You were a target."

"Because my team was tracking you?" She asked. He remained silent. "So you were planning to kill all of us, then."

"No," he corrected her quickly, "just you."

"Do you have any other targets?" She asked, thinking quickly.

His mouth thinned. "You're my only one."

"Why me?" Lucy asked demanded.

"As long as you're alive, you'll always be a target," he said coldly

Lucy could almost feel the bullet again. A chill ran down her spine. "Always?"

"Yes." His eyes were very empty.

Something clicked in her mind, and it made her a little sick. "Ernest," Lucy whispered. "Do you blame me?"

_"Yes."_

The amount of bitterness and venom in his tone made her flinch, and his previously dull eyes darkened with anger.

Lucy swallowed hard. "Ernest, I'm sorry about Bonnie. _I'm sorry._"

" 'Sorry' _doesn't help_," he whispered.

Hauser knocked on the door, and Lucy knew her time was up. He would be full of questions that she didn't want to answer, and annoyed at her for keeping them from him. She got up from the table, feeling his eyes paint a target on her back. The heaviness of guilt made her walk slow.

_It's my fault, _she thought. _My fault._


	10. A Town without Pity

**Chapter 10: A Town without Pity**

_"How can we keep love alive_  
_how can anything survive_  
_when these little minds tear you in two_  
_what a town without pity can do"_  
Gene Pitney ~"Town without Pity"

"Guess what," Bonnie said wryly, "I forgot my umbrella again, Lucy."

Ernest stared at her standing on the threshold of the infirmary, soaked to the skin and dripping water onto the floor.

"Bonnie, you're soaked!" Lucy exclaimed, getting up from her desk.

"I don't suppose you still have that set of clothes," Bonnie asked hopefully.

"I'll get something; go on into my office," Lucy said, shooing her in. Then she hunted up a blanket and clothes and passed it through the door, and a short while later Bonnie emerged in a prisoner's getup and with wet hair.

"Just like my first day here," she said, taking her seat beside him. "Except you didn't see me looking like something the cat dragged in." She blushed. "I'm always a mess, it seems."

"No, you're not," he said.

She shrugged. "Not here, maybe."

Suddenly, gorgeous music wafted out of another section of the infirmary.

Bonnie sat up straight and stared. "What is that?" she asked breathlessly.

"Webb Porter," Lucy said. "And believe it or not, he just started a few days ago."

"What?" Bonnie demanded.

"He has a genius level IQ," Lucy said, "and I tried music therapy to cure a ringing sensation he has in his ears, and it seems to be working."

Bonnie slumped back into her seat. "Working," she repeated. "I'd say 100% success, Lucy."

"Thank you," Lucy said, smiling.

"Does the music bother you?" Bonnie asked suddenly, turning to Ernest.

"No," Ernest said, thinking about it. It wasn't overplayed or uneven in rhythm; it didn't grate. It was quite beautiful. "Not at all," he said.

"That's wonderful," Bonnie said with a huge smile.

And he shyly smiled back.

As they sat there and listened to the music –Lucy had gone to watch Porter (who had previously been a screamer; the music must have helped with that, Ernest thought) –Bonnie slowly laid her head on his shoulder. He became very aware of the thumping of his heart and her heart, as they slowly synchronized. He unconsciously held his breath. This moment was too precious to shatter with something as trivial as breathing.

All too soon for his liking, the beautiful and haunting music came to an end, and Bonnie sat up, sighing.

"Oh," he said, needing to keep her close, to somehow hold onto her. "Here. Happy Birthday." He pulled something wrapped in paper out of his pocket.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, taking the present from him. "You didn't have to get me anything, Ernest –"

"I wanted to," he said, cutting her off.

She just blinked at him for a moment, but then seemed to gather herself and whisper, "Well… thank you." She carefully undid the wrapping, which was really just newspaper, and he watched her eyes go wider and wider. "Oh, Ernest, it's lovely!" she exclaimed.

The chain he had traded for. It had been someone's old dog tag chain. And he had taught some new enterprising prisoner how to make a gun in exchange for getting a hole drilled into the little lump of pyrite that now hung on the chain.

"I remembered you liked yellow," Ernest said.

"Oh, I _do_," Bonnie assured him. "_Thank_ you!" And before he knew it, her arms were around him, and he was hugging her back one-armed. The hand cuffed to the bed wasn't much use.

She smelled like floral soap and rainwater, and he couldn't think of anything better than this.

She pulled away from him as Lucy's heels clicked into the room, and she held out the necklace to let Lucy put it on her, which she did, complimenting it nicely.

But he could feel Lucy's narrowed eyes on him and Bonnie the whole rest of the afternoon.

* * *

As Bonnie left Lucy's office at the end of the day, holding her borrowed clothes, she stopped in surprise. She had never seen this man before.

"And who might this little lady be?" the man asked in a genial voice, but Bonnie felt like there wasn't anything nice in his eyes or his face.

"I'm Bonnie," she said. "I come and read on Tuesdays." Though they hadn't been reading much lately. Ernest had, slowly but surely, gotten better at talking, and they did more of it now.

"Bonnie, this is Warden James," Lucy said.

"Pleased to meet you," Bonnie said politely.

"Likewise," he said.

"Bye, Lucy," she said, walking quickly towards the door. She didn't want to talk to that man, and she didn't quite know why. "Bye, Ernest. Thanks." She flashed a grin at him and touched the necklace around her neck as she left.

He nodded but didn't smile. She figured he probably didn't like that man either.

* * *

"And how long has this been going on?" Warden James asked Lucy in a quiet voice as they stood at the end of the hall.

"Nearly six months," Lucy said. "I think it has worked well; Cobb seems much more relaxed and open around people than before, certainly…" she trailed off.

"But you have… reservations?" The Warden asked, fishing.

"Well…he does seem a bit… attached… to Bonnie, but it's certainly nothing harmful at all; it's quite natural to form attachments –"

"Dr. Sengupta," the Warden interrupted her, "I can't be having some girl just _walk in _to my prison whenever she feels like it."

"Her visits are scheduled –"

"Yes, they are, aren't they?" he asked. "Every Tuesday, like clockwork. And now Fridays."

"What?" Lucy asked, frowning.

"Her name has started showing up in the visitor logs," he said. "Visiting Cobb. Does that sound _healthy_ to you?"

"Warden James –"

"Does it sound _natural_ for a girl her age? Doctor Sengupta, I cannot allow this to go on. It's for her own good."

"Sir, there really is no harm…"

"Is there, Doctor? Can you honestly say that this girl is just a generous soul come to lighten some of the burdens of our inmates with her reading?" The Warden asked. "Is she just here to do her good deeds?"

Lucy stood there silently.

"I'll make the arrangements. I'll put different men on the door and restrict Cobb from having visitors. The whole thing will be taken care of with no fuss. It'll be better this way, Doctor. We can't have anything like this here at Alcatraz."

* * *

The next Tuesday, the guard on the door was someone she had never seen before, and he wouldn't let her through.

"I come _all the time,_" Bonnie said, exasperated. "Go ask Dr. Sengupta or Dr. Beauregard if you don't believe me!"

His glance was very suspicious, but he shut the door and went.

Bonnie fidgeted outside, looking back and forth at the high walls and barbed wire around the prison proper. Had somebody gone sick? Was that why there was a new guard? She fiddled with the necklace made of fool's gold. It was lovely, and it was her favorite of all her presents.

She had given up trying to convince herself that she didn't care for Ernest the way she did. He was sweet, and intelligent, and handsome in his own way. Yes, he had done very bad things. She wasn't dumb; she knew that. But if he hadn't done those things… he wouldn't be _Ernest._

"Dr. Beauregard says it's all right," the guard came back and said, grudgingly.

"Thank you," Bonnie said, irritated that it had taken so long. She slipped past him and found herself with an escort to the infirmary. "Really, I know the way. I've been doing this for days and days."

"I've got orders, Miss," he said.

"Fine," she said, lengthening her stride and entering the infirmary before him.

"They almost didn't let me in," she told Ernest, but stopped at the completely shocked look on his face.

"They –they told me you weren't coming," he whispered.

Bonnie frowned, sitting down. "Of course I was coming. Who said that?"

"Lucy," he said. "She said… that you had gotten tired of coming."

_Why would she say such a thing? And the guard wouldn't let me in at first… _"No," she said, taking his free hand. "I don't know why she said that, but she's wrong. I promise."

"Why do you keep coming, Bonnie?" he whispered.

Why _did_ she keep coming? She had started coming to figure it out, hadn't she? "Well," Bonnie said, her throat going dry, "Because… because I –"

"Bonnie?"

Lucy stood in the door staring at her in shock. "How did you get in here, Bonnie?"

"The guard almost didn't let me in," Bonnie said. "Why did you say I wasn't coming anymore, Lucy? I never told you such a thing."

"Bonnie, you can't be here," Lucy said, going to her desk.

"Why?" Bonnie asked, confused.

"You're not allowed to," Lucy said shortly.

"Says who?" Bonnie demanded, unconsciously clenching Ernest's hand.

"It's a prison, Bonnie, you can't just wander in an out when you please," Lucy said. "The Warden can't have it."

"But Lucy, didn't you tell him? Couldn't you explain that –"

"No, Bonnie. I'm afraid you have to go," Lucy said, pursing her lips. "Mr. Hastings, could you escort Miss McAllister out?"

"You mean I can never come back?" Bonnie demanded, her voice cracking. "That's not fair! Lucy!" The guard motioned to another man outside, and they both came in. "Lucy, you _know_ me!" Bonnie exclaimed. "Why?! Don't touch me," she said, standing and shoving the guards away as they tried to reach for her.

"Bonnie!" Ernest demanded.

She glanced at him, and her gaze was panicked. "Stop it!" she said as the guards laid hold of her and started to pull her from the infirmary. "Lucy, why didn't you fight for me?!" she screamed, digging her heels in. Lucy wouldn't look at her.

"Bonnie!" Ernest said again, getting up as well as the handcuff would let him. "Bonnie!"

Bonnie grabbed onto the bars at the door of the infirmary and held on. She would never be able to see him again, never! She'd never be able to tell him… she had to say it. Had to. "Ernest, I _love_ you!" she yelled, right before her grip was wrenched from the bars and the door slammed in her face.

The guards escorted her out of the prison and to her house, and stayed to explain the situation to her parents. She didn't know what they had said. She was too busy crying bitterly in her room.

* * *

_Present day_

"Tommy?" Bonnie exclaimed as said man burst into her apartment and shut the door behind him, breathing heavily. The library was closed on Sundays, so she had come back after her shift at the café. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I will be in a minute," he said, catching his breath.

She hadn't seen him in a while –just for a few minutes the week before. But an envelope with more cash and a birth certificate and Social Security card had been slipped under her door since, so he had been looking out for her. She waited for him to stop gasping for air, staring at him. She had suspected whatever he was doing wasn't strictly legal. The very fact that he wouldn't tell her was a big tip off. "Tommy, is somebody after you?" she asked.

"Sorry I had to come here, Bonnie, but I don't think anybody knows about you yet. I had to find a place to lay low."

She pushed a chair towards him and he sank into it. "What do you mean, _yet_?" she asked.

"They might after this. I'm sorry."

"You might not have to say sorry so much if you'd just tell me what's going on," Bonnie said.

"Can't. Sorry."

Bonnie huffed and sat down on her bed. "You can stay," she said quietly.

"Thanks, Bon."

"Don't mention it."


	11. A World Without Love

**AN: THANK YOU FOR WHOEVER REVIEWED AND REMINDED ME TO UPDATE! YOU ARE A SAINT AND I LOVE YOU. You are getting two chapters because I feel like a heel and this one is short.**

**Chapter 11: A World Without Love**

_"Please lock me away_  
_and don't allow the day here inside _  
_where I hide with my loneliness_  
_I don't care what they say _  
_I won't stay in a world without love"  
_Peter and Gordon~ "A World Without Love"

Apparently, there is no good way to break bad news to Bonnie's mother.

Bonnie wasn't really sure what sort of bunk and false stories the guards had fed to her parents, but it had sent her mother into a tailspin emotionally, and for that, she was sorry. She had felt like she had said 'I'm sorry' about fifty times in the past three days. The doctors said it would be best for her to go somewhere in the country for a bit where she could rest. Dad was going to take her, of course, but they didn't have the money for Bonnie to come as well, so she was sent to stay with the Hastingses.

Bonnie did not particularly like Guy Hastings, mostly because he was one of the guards who had hauled her out of the infirmary. She did not particularly care for Mrs. Hastings because she was never quite sure how much her husband had told her of the events, and disliked all the sidelong gazes that she got from her. Their daughter was sweet, though, so she played with her and helped out and tried to act good.

Inwardly she was screaming.

She had let her grades go. There was only a week and a half of school left. It didn't matter. And she didn't care. But one day, Mrs. Hastings appeared at the dock in tears to tell her daughter about her father's death.

That day Bonnie really was sorry.

There had been some sort of accident, a chemical or radioactive something-or-other, and they had to get everybody off the Island. Since Bonnie didn't want to be a bother (and didn't want to stay with a grieving family any longer), she went back home to an empty house.

They were evacuating all non-essential people from Alcatraz, but she had nowhere to go in San Francisco. Her parents were far away. So she just didn't leave.

She had noticed the guards were short staffed as well. And though she knew it was stupid, knew it was ridiculous, she had to get back into the prison. Just one last time.

There were much fewer guards on the outer entrances –some didn't even guards stationed at them. But there was activity. Oh, there was activity. And the activity gave her a chance –they were moving things, shifting machinery, she couldn't tell what, but a guard propped a door open in order to carry a big heavy box in, and in she went.

It wasn't supposed to be this easy to sneak into a prison. Really. As she slunk down corridors towards the only place she had ever been –the infirmary –she realized just how short staffed they were at Alcatraz. How many guards had been in that chemical spill? How many had they sent off the island?

She wanted to see Ernest, but he wouldn't be in the infirmary. He'd be in General Population, and there was no way in hell that she'd be able to get to him without someone seeing her. Alcatraz might be short staffed on guards, but the prisoner quota was still as high as ever.

_This was a stupid idea,_ she tried to tell herself. _Just go back. Get kicked out._

_And go where?_ Her idiotic side said. _San Francisco? Where your parents won't be able to find you? Where you don't know a soul?_

_I do so,_ she thought._ There's Joy and Patsy…_ but she didn't know where they lived. There was a reason why they were her 'school friends.'

_There's always an empty house._

There was something so wrong with her. An empty infirmary sounded better than an empty house.

* * *

_Present Day_

It had been two weeks since Tommy had burst into her apartment, and she had seen neither hide nor hair of him. He probably believed he was keeping her safer from whatever was out there that he thought could hurt her.

She suspected that he was wrong.

She had felt watched for nearly three days, and she couldn't explain it. When she was walking on the street, when she was waiting tables, it didn't matter. She'd turn quickly and try to catch whoever it was, but her frantic scanning of the crowd never resulted anything.

Well, other than being bumped into. Pedestrians weren't the kindest of people.

It was starting to creep her out.

She had finished shelving books at the library, and since the librarian on duty had no other tasks for her to do that day, Bonnie was walking slowly back to her apartment, hands deep in the pockets of her sweater, feeling the eyes.

The whisper, however, was unexpected, which is why it made her jump out of her skin.

"Bonnie!"

She shot at least six inches off the ground and turned in the process. The hiss came from the alley to her right.

"Act _normal_, okay? It's me."

"Normal," she muttered, letting out the air in her lungs very slowly. Her heart would not slow down. "_Right_."

"Can you _casually _walk into this alley, or is that too hard?" Tommy asked.

Bonnie leisurely looked at her watch and then at the sky (which was cloudless for the first time in a long time) and slowly entered the shadowy alley. "Casual enough for you?" she murmured as Tommy grabbed her hand and tugged her along.

"You've got a tail, Bon," he told her.

"Yeah, I know," She said. "I've had it for a couple days. I just haven't been able to spot it."

"He's going over the rooftops."

"Are you serious?" she asked, staring at him.

"Yes. Come on."

She couldn't help glancing up as he tugged her along, trying to _see_ this imaginary –no, not imaginary, just invisible –tail. "Why's he following me?" she asked.

"To try to find me," Tommy said shortly.

"Isn't this a bit counter productive?" she said, alarmed that he was putting himself in danger for her.

"Bonnie –"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence.

BAM.

She had never actually heard a gunshot before. It was loud.

Tommy bodily shoved her against the alley wall as Bonnie tried to remember how to breathe. It _hurt_. He yanked her behind a dumpster and pulled out a gun of his own. "You okay, Bonnie?" he demanded.

Her shirt was turning red.

He cursed as she pulled up her shirt and inspected the wound, which hurt like fire. "I think… I think it's just a graze?" Bonnie said through clenched teeth. She was bleeding, but she could see an in and out point, and the bullet hadn't gone too deep into her left side, so that was good, she guessed. She couldn't remember if anything important was in that side of her body. "Sniper?" she asked.

"Looks like it." He cursed again. "I'm so sorry, Bon…"

"Just stop cursing at me, Tommy," she said, pulling her sweater off and pressing it against her side. She felt vaguely like she might be sick. "So he's not a very good sniper, huh? Not Ernest quality?"

"No," Tommy said, and managed a smile. He fired off a shot at the rooftops, and when there was no return fire, he seemed to think it safe enough to tug her out from behind the dumpster and down another street.

They made three blocks before her legs got too shaky and gave out.


	12. You're the One

**Chapter 12: You're the One**

_"Keep me in your heart  
never let us part  
ohh, never leave me, please don't deceive me,  
I want you only, you must believe me!"  
_The Vogues~ "You're the One"

She was hiding in a linen closet. Sometimes she wondered at herself.

She had snuck in when Lucy was out and Doctor Beauregard was on a smoke break, and was now hiding in a closet –well, she said closet… it was a cabinet, and she was curled up in the bottom shelf.

It smelled like alcohol and cotton balls, and Bonnie wondered just why she was doing this. She was afraid to breathe too loudly, for goodness' sake, in case someone heard her.

But she couldn't conceive of a life where she never got to come back to their room, never got to read to her two best friends, and never got to see Ernest smile again.

She couldn't do it.

No light came into the cabinet for some time, and silence had fallen for nearly an hour. Slowly, Bonnie pushed the cabinet door open and eased out of it stiffly. There was a crick in her neck and her back ached.

The dark infirmary was completely empty of people. Bonnie slowly walked through the black, letting her eyes adjust until she got to the beds. She sat down on the one that had become "Ernest's" in her mind and curled up into a ball.

It smelled like him. She couldn't put a name to it, but she knew it was his scent. Sort of clean, like soap, and maybe a bit metallic, but warm and safe all the same.

She held onto her necklace and sighed before slowly falling asleep.

And then…

She was simply gone.

* * *

_Present Day_

"You just stay still, Bonnie," Tommy said, pulling a phone out of his pocket. "Okay?"

"I'm not dying, Tommy," Bonnie said. She knew enough about the human body to tell that. "I'm just lightheaded." She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. "Who are you calling?"

"Shush," Tommy said. "Hello?"

* * *

"Rebecca Madsen's phone," Doc said, picking it up. The number was unknown, and Rebecca was in the records room, so he figured he'd pick up before it went to voicemail, see if it was anything important.

"Where's Rebecca?" the man on the other line said.

"Uh, she's not here right this second… who's this?" Doc asked, frowning.

"Are you her partner?"

"Yeah," he said, frowning deeper. "Who is this?"

There was some muffled speaking on the other end of the line, but the man came back on and asked, "How many sixty-threes have you got?"

"Whoa, who are you? How do you know about this?" Doc demanded, standing up. He'd take the phone to Rebecca; she'd know what to do…

"I need to know if you've got a man named Ernest Cobb."

"Dude, I'm not telling you anything," Doc said. "How the heck did you get this number?"

"I keep tabs on my granddaughter."

Doc's eyes got _really _big. "You're Tommy Madsen," he whispered.

"Yes, and I'm going to tell you my location, and you can come get me, but _I need to know_ if you've got Ernest Cobb."

Soto reached the records room and made frantic hand motions at Rebecca. "Yes, we captured Cobb."

There was more muffled conference on the other end of the line, and he took the opportunity to whisper, "It's Tommy!" to Rebecca, who flew to his side and yanked the phone out of his hand.

"How did you get this number?" she demanded. "What do you want?"

She listened for a minute, running a hand through her blond hair with her trademark scowl planted firmly in place. Doc sometimes wondered if criminals didn't just lay down arms because of that. "Wait, wait –" she said, and then cursed. "He hung up. Call Hauser and Lucy."

"Did he say where he was?" Doc wanted to know.

"He gave me an address. We don't know what we'll find there, though," Rebecca said. "What did he say to you?"

"He wanted to know if we had caught Cobb," Doc said.

"That's it?" Rebecca asked. "Nothing else?"

"Well, he actually said he _needed_ to know," Doc told her. "And he said he kept tabs on you."

"The man stabs me with a knife but still keeps tabs on me," she muttered. "Wonderful. Did you tell him we had Cobb?"

"Yeah. I mean, I was trying to keep him on the line –"

"It's okay, Doc. You did good. Call Hauser. Tell him I'll text the address." She grabbed her jacket and her gun, and then they were off.

* * *

"Becky's gonna come get you, Bonnie," Tommy said, brushing the brown hair away from the young girl's face. "You're gonna be fine, kid. And I'll get the shooter, don't worry."

"Okay," she said, smiling at him.

He tucked his jacket securely around her and gave her a knife, just in case.

"You're sure Ernest is with them?" she said.

"Her partner said they had gotten him," Tommy told her. "So. You and Ernest?"

She blushed.

"Now I know what you were getting up to when I wasn't there," Tommy said jokingly.

"It wasn't like that," she mumbled, still blushing.

"Just kidding you. But you were good for him, Bon. We could tell." Tommy nodded. "He got better with you."

The hope in her eyes was palpable. "Be good, kid," he said. "Tell Ernest I'll come back and waste him if he doesn't treat you right."

" 'M not a kid," she corrected him. They both smiled. "Be safe, Tommy," she said.

"Yeah," he said.

* * *

Bonnie sat in the dim interior of the building and tried to hold pressure on her bullet wound. Not a good idea to just bleed out. But it _hurt._ She couldn't remember anyone ever telling her what it felt like to get shot. It was not any sort of experience she'd wish to repeat.

Somewhere a door opened, and lights began to bob around.

"Clear."

"Clear."

Was that Rebecca?

Bonnie sat up and called, "I'm over here!"

The footsteps stopped, but then hurried in her direction.

Bonnie winced at the sudden light in her face and put up a hand to shield her eyes.

"Who are you?" a woman's voice demanded. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you Rebecca?" Bonnie asked as her eyes adjusted.

"…Yes," the woman said.

"Oh, good. I'm –"

"Bonnie?"

Bonnie sat up and stared as Doctor Lucy Sengupta and an unfamiliar man came through the doorway and gaped at her.

She recovered quickly, however. She pursed her lips. "Hello, Lucy," Bonnie said.

**Please Review! :) So sorry about the wait! Love y'all!**


	13. Kisses Sweeter than Wine

**Many thanks to all my reviewers, especially the lovely supernaturallover1098, who reminded me to update :) Don't be shy about it! Hope you like this one :)**

**Chapter 13: Kisses Sweeter than Wine**

"Well, when I was a young man  
and never been kissed,  
I got to thinking it over,  
how much I had missed."  
_Jimmie Rodgers ~"Kisses Sweeter than Wine"_

"Hang on –you know her?" Rebecca demanded. "Who is she?"

"Her name is –"

"I'm Bonnie McAllister," Bonnie interrupted, glaring. "I'm right here. And could I see a doctor, if it's not too much trouble?"

"Why? What's wrong?" Rebecca asked, putting her gun into her holster. "Doc, it's clear!" she called.

"Well, I've been shot…" Bonnie said, raising an eyebrow and moving Tommy's jacket off of her so that his granddaughter could get a look.

She cursed as she inspected the wound. "Did he do this to you?" she asked.

"Tommy?" Bonnie asked. "No, of course not! It was someone on the roof, following us."

As the larger man with the ponytail came through the door, the man at Lucy's side with silver hair pulled out his phone, but Lucy stopped him.

"She can't go to a hospital," Lucy said quietly.

"She needs to get this looked at," the blond said with a suborn look.

"She's a sixty-three; there will be questions."

"You're… you're from Alcatraz?" Rebecca asked, turning to Bonnie.

"There was a guard with the last name of McAllister on Alcatraz," her partner said.

"That was my father," Bonnie said, feeling her throat get tight.

"How did you get here?" he asked, instantly curious.

"I don't know," Bonnie said honestly. "I fell asleep in 1963 and woke up in 2012."

"Hey, guys! She needs medical attention right now, not twenty questions," Rebecca said. "What are we going to do?"

Lucy gave the silver-haired man beside her a pointed look.

"_No_," he said emphatically.

"They've got to know sometime," she said quietly. "And there's the lab and Dr. Beauregard to help her, and we can discover all of these mysteries in good time. It makes sense, Emerson. Stop being stubborn."

"Would you like to tell us what you're talking about?" Rebecca asked, helping Bonnie stand and wrap Tommy's jacket around her waist as another bandage.

"It's easier to show you," Lucy said.

"A containment facility," the man named Emerson said, "was built to house all the sixty-threes we manage to catch. That's where we're going."

"I thought you sent them back to prison!" Rebecca said, clearly shocked by this new information.

"We couldn't send prisoners who were legally dead back into the prison system," the man said acridly. "So we found a solution. Come on; help the girl."

"My name's Bonnie," Bonnie mumbled.

As Rebecca helped her out of the building and into an SUV, Bonnie said, "You look like him, you know? Tommy."

Rebecca stared at her with searching eyes. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

Bonnie shrugged. "Just a statement. You can see it, though, because you're the same age. Give or take."

Rebecca laughed humorlessly. "Tell me about it." She crossed her arms over her chest and asked, "What were you doing with him?

"I…there was someone following me," Bonnie said. "Tommy thought it was to discover where _he_ was. I think he was trying to keep me safe, but obviously the shooter was… a bit ahead of him."

"Why does he want to keep you safe?" Rebecca asked.

Bonnie stared at her. "Because we're friends," she said. "He said he'd look out for me." She saw the woman's skeptical look. "He may be a lot of things," she said strongly. "I'm not stupid. I know what he's done. But he keeps his promises as best he can," she said. "And he looks out for the people he cares about. He cares about me. And he cares about you," she added.

She saw the disbelief cross Rebecca's face, but Bonnie knew her words were true. He called his granddaughter Becky –he called her Bon. He watched them both from afar to know they were okay. And he knew her phone number well enough to call it when he needed her.

He was a complicated man, but some things about him were absurdly simple.

* * *

The buzz of the elevator meant that someone was coming or going, and in a place where not a lot happened, it was a time of interest. Staring at three white walls and the bars of your cell all day was not interesting. There were always a few murmured conversations between cells, but everything hushed now as all the inmates, Ernest included, went to the front of their cells to see who was coming this time.

Sometimes it was a false alarm –just Hauser coming and doing whatever it was he did here, or the Doctor-that-should-be-dead, but sometimes it meant another inmate coming to join them in their white-walled existence here underground. So they got up.

Every time.

It didn't seem like they were bringing an inmate in this time –not a whole one, at least. Hauser and the Doctor and the rest were moving towards the infirmary. Funny –the blond girl and the big man had never come before. She had her arm around somebody, but the person pulled away and looked curiously down the length of cells.

It was Bonnie.

Suddenly, it was very hard to breathe. She was here, _here_, in 2012. She wasn't dead. She was here.

"Bonnie," he whispered as she turned away, drinking in her presence even at this distance.

And then his heart almost stopped, because she turned back, like… she might have heard him.

* * *

"C'mon, kiddo, we've got to get you checked out," Becky told her, but Bonnie still stared down the line of cells.

"I just… I just need to see," she whispered, walking away from the group. And Rebecca let her.

"Rebecca, she needs medical attention –" Lucy began to say in a low voice behind Bonnie.

"It's not critical, Lucy. A minute or two won't hurt anything," Rebecca said. "Let her have her look."

They were all staring at her… and she knew them. There was Paxton, and Johnny, Jack –he nodded at her, and she nodded back… and –

"Bonnie," she heard again, louder this time.

She couldn't help the smile that broke across her face as she walked as best she could towards the only person she had wanted to see for months. "Hi," she whispered, beaming and reaching a hand through the bars to him.

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, pulling her closer, and she felt like her chest was going to explode from whatever this feeling was… this huge, wonderful feeling.

"I missed you," she whispered, staring into his eyes. How funny, but she had never really had the opportunity to see him standing tall. She liked it.

"I thought you were dead," he said, staring at her like he still couldn't believe it. His sharp eyes caught sight of the multiple jackets pressed against her side and demanded, "What happened?"

She shrugged it off, still staring at him. "A shooter on a rooftop. It's okay; just a graze. He wasn't as good as you," she said, smiling wanly.

His eyes widened behind his glasses, and he said, "Bonnie, I…"

"It's okay," she said, her voice cracking. "Really, it is." Why was she tearing up? She was happy!

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "I'm sorry you got pulled into all this, Bonnie."

"Well, I'm not," she said sharply. "Because I'd still be in 1963, and you'd be gone, and then what would I do?"

She thought she saw his flicker of a smile right before he reached through the bars and pulled her into a kiss.

She pressed her lips against his for as long as she possibly could without breathing, and still felt deep regret when she had to pull away to breathe. The pain in her side was stronger, and it took her longer to get her breath back.

She jumped at a presence at her elbow, but it was just Rebecca. "Hey, we've got to get you checked out, Bonnie." She glanced at Ernest. "You can see Cobb after the Doctor patches you up. Okay?"

"Really?" Bonnie asked, still holding his hand.

"Yeah," she said, smiling.

Bonnie told Ernest, "This is Tommy's granddaughter." The distrustful look on his face eased up somewhat. "See you," she said, pecking him on the lips again for good measure before Rebecca helped her towards the infirmary.

"One day you're going to have to tell me just what about me being Tommy Madsen's granddaughter suddenly makes me okay," Rebecca said.

Bonnie would have laughed, but her side hurt a bit too much for that.


	14. Since I Kissed You

**Chapter 14: Since I Kissed You**

"Things have really changed since I kissed ya  
My life's not the same now that' I've kissed ya  
Mmm, you got a will about ya  
now I can't live with ya"

_The Everly Brothers ~ "'Til I Kissed You"_

He stood there waiting long after everyone else had left the bars of their cells for the more comfortable options of their beds. What did comfort matter? Bonnie was back.

He loved her. Heaven help him, but he loved her.

He shouldn't. She should have a life, somewhere other than this white-walled underground prison. Somewhere away from the craziness of Alcatraz and its mysteries.

But if Ernest Cobb knew one thing about himself, it was that he could never let go of something willingly. He couldn't let go of the dream of finding his mother until she slammed the door in his face. And he still clung to the shreds of it, shooting his way across the country. He thought he had lost Bonnie forever, once. And he had shot the woman who had brought her in and out of his life.

He didn't know if he could let her go again.

Rebecca Madsen came out of the infirmary, finally, and walked down the line of cells. She found something to say to each of the men, even if they didn't particularly like her. He could see Tommy in her face, now. That steely blue glint in her eye couldn't be anything but hereditary.

"Bonnie's fine," she said without preamble when she reached his cell. "She's sewn up and sleeping now."

He didn't know what to say. It was a malady that happened upon him quite often, possibly a contributing factor as to why he said so little in the first place. The only thing that came to mind was 'thank you,' so he said that.

"You're welcome," she said automatically. "Uh…" she reached into her back pocket, "I assumed that they would have given this to you," 'they' being Hauser and Lucy, "but… obviously," she said, drawing out a yellowed piece of paper, "they didn't. So I am." She held it out to him. "I wasn't lying on that roof."

He reached out and took the single sheet of paper, and she walked back down the line of cells.

'Dear Ernest,

You probably don't remember me, but I was there the day you came to find your mom, who's my mom too, which I guess means we're brother and sister. I'm sorry she was unkind to you. She's never been one for surprises. I read about you in the paper, being in Alcatraz and all, and I figure you're probably lonely. I hope it'll be okay if we're pen pals because I always wanted a big brother to look out for me.

Sincerely, Eloise.'

He sat down on his cot, staring at the words on the paper, willing them to make sense. His mind flashed back to the day he was captured, the words Madsen had yelled to him.

_"I know you met your mother. She had a daughter, and you saw her, Cobb! You saw your sister! Did you know she wrote you a letter? Her name was Eloise; she lived at forty-seven Kaylee Street!"_

_"Go to hell!"_

_"She wanted to know you. She wanted a big brother–"_

_"Go to hell!"_

… She was sorry?

She _wanted_ a…?

He pressed a hand over his mouth and cried.

* * *

Bonnie felt very floaty and tired when she woke up in an infirmary bed, but that was it.

"Well, Miss McAllister, you're the last person I expected to come through that door."

Bonnie smiled. "Hi, Dr. Beauregard," she said tiredly, looking up at him. The older man looked just the same, only a bit paler and whiter.

"How do you feel?"

"Sort of funny," Bonnie said, "but nothing hurts."

"Ah, the wonders of modern medicine," he said dryly.

"Am I patched up now?"

"Yes ma'am. I sewed you up. Now you've just got to heal."

"I'm tired," she mumbled, staring up at him.

"I'm surprised you woke up this soon. You sleep if you need to," he said, sounding kinder than she had remembered. But somewhere in her sleep and drug addled mind, she remembered he had been married with children. And she'd bet money that they weren't here.

She smiled sadly. "Okay," she whispered. "Where's Ernest?"

"In his cell, I imagine," Dr. Beauregard said.

"…Want Ernest," Bonnie mumbled as she drifted off.

* * *

The lights were dim when she woke up again. She figured that meant it was night. No one was in the room, but a machine or two glowed faintly. She didn't hurt much at the moment, but then again, she hadn't tried moving.

"Bonnie?"

She turned her head (that didn't hurt, at least) to see Ernest sitting there by her bed, looking like he had fallen asleep as well. "Hi," she whispered. Was she dreaming?

"Do you feel any pain?"

Ah, there he was. Direct and right to the point. Not a dream. "Not at the moment," she said. "Did you…" she couldn't think how to ask this. "Did you get let out of your cell?" Maybe it was the drugs mixing up her words.

"Rebecca let me out," he said quietly. "You're right. She is Tommy's girl." He stared at his hands vacantly.

"Ernest?"

He didn't move.

"Ernest, what's the matter?" Bonnie asked.

"I… I had a sister," he said. "She's dead now."

"I'm sorry," Bonnie said.

"No, that's… that's not the important part," he said. "I went to go find my mother when I was twenty. She hadn't kept me. But she wouldn't even talk to me when I found her. But… she had this girl. A sixteen year old girl." He looked up suddenly, straight into Bonnie's face.

_Don't you think it's a _little_ hypocritical of you, since both of you have killed people much closer to my age than _he_ has?_

Her words from so long ago came rushing back into Bonnie's mind, and she stared as words tumbled out of Ernest, faster than she had ever heard him talk before.

"She kept her. Not me. I hated her. I just –I just wanted… it _hurt, _Bonnie. Why not me? Why not _me_?" his tone became pleading, and Bonnie reached out and grabbed his hand.

He ducked his head, staring at the sheets again. "Every time I shot someone, I saw her face," he whispered. "And I was happy."

Bonnie bit her lip and fought the tears in her eyes. He had acted out in hurt, and it had resulted more hurt for so many more people.

Why couldn't that woman just have loved her son?

"She gave me a letter," he said, and Bonnie got the feeling that he was just spitting the words out now, afraid that if he stopped, they'd never come out again. "Rebecca, she gave me a letter she found. From my sister… Eloise. She said she was _sorry_ for the way our mother had reacted. She wanted abig brother." He finally looked her in the eyes. "Bonnie, what did I do?"

She felt the tears come now, rolling down her face. "You didn't know," she said. "You couldn't've. But she wanted to make amends, it sounds like." Her voice cracked. "She wanted to heal things."  
"It's too late now," he mumbled.

"It's never too late," Bonnie protested. "She might never know it, but you can do what she wanted you to do –heal. Be that brother she wanted."

He shook his head. "No, I can't. It's not just her."

"Who, then?" she asked, wiping the tear tracks off her face and reaching for his, careful not to smudge his glasses lenses.

"Lucy. I shot her. She almost died. She should have."

Her hand almost flinched at the dead quality of his words, but she forced it not to quiver or shake. "Why, Ernest?" she whispered.

"She let them take you away."

"Lucy has a very black and white view of the world, Ernest," Bonnie said. "She thought she was doing what was best for me, and besides, the Warden told her to. She hurt me, too, but I can't hate her for it."

"I do."

"But I'm here now," Bonnie said. "Right here. And I'm not going anywhere." She let her hand rest on his cheek.

"You can't go anywhere," he mumbled. "They won't ever let any of us out."

"Ernest… Lucy once told me that she helped the men in Alcatraz because she believed that criminals didn't have to stay criminals. She believed in second chances once. If you can give her a second chance… maybe they can give us a second chance," Bonnie said, staring into his eyes, trying to convey this hope and her faith.

"…For you," Ernest finally said. "I'll try for you."

"Thank you," Bonnie said, tears coming to her eyes again. "It means more than what I ever hoped for."

"You need to sleep," he whispered, reading the tiredness on her face.

"Room for two?" Bonnie whispered, trying to push herself over in the large twin bed.

"I don't want to hurt you –"

"The graze is on my left side. You'll be fine on my right," she whispered. "Please?"

He gave in, and they both fell asleep side-by-side, listening to the rhythm of their synchronized hearts.

**One more chapter left! Review and you can have it! :)**


	15. It's a Sign

**AN: LAST CHAPTER! :D Thank y'all SO MUCH for your wonderful encouraging reviews, even when my brain is faulty and forgetful. I just really love this song so much -you all should go listen to it :) Thanks so much for sticking with me! Hope you like it! :)**

* * *

**Chapter 15: It's a Sign of the Times**

_"It's a sign of the times_  
_ That your love for me is getting so much stronger_  
_ It's a sign of the times_  
_ And I know that I won't have to wait much longer_  
_ You've changed a lot somehow from the one I used to know-oh-oh_  
_ For when you hold me now it feels like you never want to let me go_

_ It's a sign of the times_  
_ That you call me up whenever you feel lonely_  
_ It's a sign of the times_  
_ That you tell your friends that I'm your one and only_  
_ I'll never understand the way you treated me _  
_ But when I hold your hand I know you couldn't be the way you used to be"_

"It's a Sign of the Times" ~Petula Clark

_Could_ _I wake up like this every day? _Bonnie wondered, staring at the white t-shirt in front of her and breathing in the smell that was just plain Ernest. No, Earnestly Ernest. Right.

She needed food. Her stomach growled loud enough for the inmates in the cellblock to hear it, probably.

"You awake?" Rebecca asked, coming around the end of the bed.

Ernest opened his eyes and wordlessly rolled off the bed and sat down in the chair he had vacated during the night.

"I guess so," Bonnie said.

"I come with food," Rebecca said, and that made Bonnie push herself up into a sitting position.

"Then I'm definitely awake," she said, staring at the large Styrofoam containers Rebecca held.

"I got a little bit of everything, and I'll eat whatever you don't want," Rebecca said cheerfully.

"I don't know how you put it away," Bonnie said, remembering the copious amounts of food she used to order.

"Lots of running," Rebecca said easily. "And I like food." She smiled. "Besides, I tried some of the stuff they feed you guys last night, and I figured you'd need it," she told Ernest. "I'm gonna try to talk Hauser into giving me the low down on this place so I can change some stuff. Lucy said the Alcatraz food was fantastic compared to that stuff."

"Hauser is the grey-haired man, right?" Bonnie inquired, opening some of the containers to see what was in them. About half were regular breakfast fare, and the other half looked like Chinese. She'd let Rebecca have the Chinese. "Lucy's man?"

"Yeah," Rebecca said. "It's _weird." _

Ernest shifted in his seat and Bonnie looked studiously at the scrambled eggs that she was beginning to eat.

"Oh, not like that," Rebecca said. "You two are more or less the same age, anyway, even if you don't count the time jump. I think it's weird that she started out being older than him and now he's older than _her._"

"He knew her before?" Bonnie asked, extremely surprised.

"He was with the SFPD," Rebecca said. She looked a little…ashamed? Embarrassed? "It's… probably why he shot you, Cobb. I'm sorry."

"You were _shot_?" Bonnie exclaimed.

"In the hand," he said, showing her. "But it's healed now."

"Creepily fast, too," Rebecca said around a mouthful of noodles. "It has something to do with the colloidal silver in some of the inmates' blood. Lucy healed because of it," she said. "So did I."

"What?" Bonnie asked.

"You don't know?" Rebecca said, frowning. "Lucy said you helped out in the infirmary… I thought you'd know something, or that Tommy would have told you something…"

"Tommy didn't tell me anything," Bonnie said. "And I just read books to Tommy and Ernest in the infirmary. I didn't do anything medical." _That future never really came to pass,_ she thought.

"Well, no one really knows what the Warden was up to in Alcatraz, or how, or why all the inmates are coming back," Rebecca said. "Even people who apparently had tasks to perform, like Jack Sylvane, didn't know why it had been asked of them, and they can't really explain why they had a need to find whatever they did."

"So we just keep giving you more questions, and no answers," Bonnie sighed.

"Well, not really," Rebecca said. "Doc has tons of theories, but he's eliminated some of them now. You, apparently, weren't supposed to be on Alcatraz the night everyone disappeared."

"No," Bonnie said softly. "I wasn't."

"So that eliminates about a dozen of his theories about ingesting some sort of potion or stepping into a machine or anything of that nature," Rebecca said.

"Tommy would know," Bonnie whispered.

"Then we need to find Tommy," Rebecca said.

"And then do what?" Bonnie asked. "Lock him up, once you've got your answers? He _is_ your grandfather."

"Yeah, and he stabbed me with a knife," Rebecca said. "He cares a whole bunch for that family tie."

Bonnie, taken aback but still not afraid to back down, said, "He doesn't give nicknames to just anybody. But my point still stands! What do you do with three hundred odd people who don't belong in this time period once you've caught them? Just put us down here until we die?"

"I don't like that solution," Rebecca said seriously, "And I'm gonna yell at Hauser when I get the chance. But unless you want to help or have a better solution, we don't have the time to figure out a long-term plan at the moment. They've found a map below Alcatraz that shows the locations of all the Alcatraz inmates all over the US. We have to find them."

"Why?" Bonnie asked.

"So we can figure out what has happened," Rebecca answered promptly. "And because nobody seems to want to take this opportunity to start over; everyone we've caught so far has kept committing crimes."

Ernest looked away, but Bonnie squeezed his hand.

"Help how?" she asked.

"How?" Rebecca asked, chewing. "Telling us everything you can think of or remember. Figuring out which criminals might be doing what. Bringing them in."

Bonnie exchanged a look with Ernest, which really told her only that she had gotten rusty at reading his facial expressions since they had been apart. "Well," she said slowly, "I'll help."

"This wasn't an option, you know," Ernest said.

"What wasn't?" Rebecca asked.

"Helping," he said. "You just get tossed into another cell in another prison, and when they finally get around to talking to you, you don't much care to say anything useful to help."

"Hauser comes across like that," Rebecca muttered. "I'll talk to him. I'll talk to the rest of the sixty-threes, too. See who'd want to help." She stood and gathered up the breakfast containers (which were mostly empty now). "I'll leave you to rest." She walked quietly out of the room.

"I wonder why that was," Bonnie whispered.

Ernest looked at her curiously.

"Why no one wanted to take the gift they had been given and start over, a new life," Bonnie said.

"Hurt runs deep," Ernest said, from experience.

"All it takes is some willingness to heal," Bonnie said.

"And you," Ernest said.

"Me?" Bonnie asked.

"Everything would be different without you," he whispered.

She smiled. "I just read you stories, Ernest."

"No," he said definitively, shaking his head and reaching for her hands. "No, you were a light. You were something I could never reach for, but I wanted to try anyway. You were hope."

"Maybe that's all these men need," Bonnie said, smiling. "Hope."

"Just not _my_ hope," Ernest whispered, leaning towards her.

_How things change_, Bonnie thought, remembering how Ernest used to be when she first met him –taciturn, agitated, and in need of silence. She had never thought this side of him existed –but she had been wrong.

She was really happy to have been wrong.

_It must be a sign of the times,_ she thought, leaning into his kiss.


End file.
